The Nth Hunger Games
by packman23
Summary: CLOSED! Claudius Templesmith narrates the 94th annual Hunger Games in which you. Yes you, can create a tribute and influence the story and try your luck in the games. YOU can have the once in a lifetime chance to die in unbearable agony.
1. Final tribute list

Disclaimer: First, some apoligies to those who did not get in and a brief description of what happened to their character:

arcticimist: I am very sorry, I didn't want you to feel left out and would have sent you a PM explaining the situation as soon as possible.

I know that it is not as good as being in the Games, but I have placed Eutrepe as a relative of the current President and Ebony as a previous winner and Mentor of the female tribute from district 4. Hope this makes up for some of the disappointment as I really loved these characters' name and not including her was actually a very difficult decision.

Silver dagger: Zard Frezal is now the trainer of career Essence Craymaker. Still a huge flirt, he spends most of his time in the HGTV viewing docks, trying to pick up Claudius Templesmith's more female co-workers.

dudleyson: Zitheneals (Zea) Denair is now Head Game Maker (It seemed to fit his personality)

the pen my sword: Connor Flipseye, whilst still keeping his age of twelve, has become the youngest, and one of the most evil, Games Makers ever!

**And now a message from our sponsors**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games!**

"Hello, Hello, and welcome. I'm Claudius Templesmith here to tell you about this years exciting new Hunger Games. In just a few days the Tributes from all twelve districts will be arriving to meet their makers... I mean stylists.

We have just received word about many of the personalities who will be arriving so keep your eyes glued to your screen so you don't miss...

**DISTRICT ONE:**

IRRE MASSENHUNT (17)- This dude is creepy. Not just 'cos he's a a career, but because he's two careers. The first a jovial, friendly and strong and intelligent. An all around nice guy, while still a career, he is the perfect boy to have as your ally. The second self is cold, calculating and ruthless. A sadist in every sense of the word and not a nice guy to have on your side. Creepy and unpredictable, can he cut up the others before they can cut him up.

ESSCENCE CRAYMAKER (15)- This dart wielding girl is a rare thing in the Hunger Games, a Career who has cold feet about entering. In an interview, directly after being volunteered by close friend, Glamor, Essence admitted that she didn't think she could win. But, now that she's got no choice, will this newbie pull something out of the bag?

**DISTRICT TWO:**

DEMIS GREATTOOTH (18)- If Freakin' Awesome were a name (or not already the name of the Mayor in District One) Demis should have been called it. A beast in combat, Demis fights with a pair of metal claws so sharp that they can cut through bone with the ease of scissors through paper. Demis acts as the head of the Careers, a natural born leader and protector and is probably the only thing holding them together. He seems to have a soft spot for girls, especially the other careers, and that may trip him up.

VERAIN LONGCAST (16)- This girl may not seem like much, but Verain Longcast is in fact the younger sister of winner of the 87th Hunger Games, Enoch Longcast, and the 92nd Hunger Games, Ventura Longcast. With such a great family to live up to, Verain is determined not to disappoint.

**DISTRICT THREE:**

JAKOB HART (14)- A clumsy poisoner with a great knowledge of flora, fauna and mechanics, most of which was learnt from battered old books and movies. He claims to have a photographic memory that should serve him well in the games. Hart has taken a tape recorder into the games. Why? I hear you ask. Simple, if he loses then he has something to send home. If not, he can always make an audio-biography!

KATE RYAL (15)- Hold onto your partners, young women of Panem, because this next contestant is a little different to what we usually get from District 3. In fact, it's rare to get such a beautiful face in the Hunger Games. If her skill is anything as good as she is looking then it'll be hard for the rest to survive. Let's hope that face doesn't get, ahem, slightly less beautiful as the game goes on.

**DISTRICT FOUR:**

BLAKE KAITZ (14)- This charismatic, flirtatious little career is most probably the brains of most of their operations. Able to keep his wits in even the most dire of situations and deadly in his control of the less intelligent. Blake's greatest weapon is his wit and strategy and his second most fatal weapon is his face and voice. He is a champion flirt and often goes after the older, stronger, girls who can protect him. Zard Frezal would be proud.

JULES RADCLIFFE (13)- A young prodigy of the world of Career fighters, Miss Radcliffe has volunteered herself for the games despite her young age and frail appearance. Jules is a ruthless hunter, able to catch any enemy in minutes by darting through the undergrowth ahead of larger careers and spear the victim on the end of her vicious trident.

**DISTRICT FIVE:**

QUENTIN RAPIDO (18)- The finest, and richest, competitor that District 5 has to offer. While District 5 isn't too shabby in the games, it's not every day that someone steps forwards without provocation. Quentin is, you guessed it, a Career. And not to bad a one at that. He's determined to win, and woe betide anyone who gets in the way.

TEAGAN COOPER (12)- Teagan is a small, stuttering little girl who is, or rather was, dearly loved by her parents. Teagan was incredibly popular in her District and known for her agility and skill with a bow. However, now that she's in the games, surrounded by opponents much older than herself, will speed work.

**DISTRICT SIX:**

PHILLIP SUTTON (15)- Quiet and strategic, Phillip is the son of one of District Six's doctors. A mild-mannered non-combatant who tries to keep his head in tough situations and acts as the voice of reason for his partner, Emery. He is good at trap setting but not so affective up close. The perfect foil for his little girlfriend...

EMERY LOX (15)- A skilled martial artist and master of the sneak attack and concealing weaponry. When combined with high speed, Emery is basically the very archetype of a ninja. Emery has been Phillip's friend practically all her life and is determined to keep him safe in the arena. Like most ninja, she can't really handle being outnumbered and will flee if the need arises. Now if only she were dressed in black...

**DISTRICT SEVEN:**

ASH "PYRO" VERNON (17)- This pale faced competitor garnered his nickname from more than just his flaming shock of hair. This massive man mountain is a skilled Pyromaniac and seems to have an unhealthy obsession with fire. Most seem glad to lose him, but will having a fire starter in a jungle be such a good idea.

KAYTON ROYS (13)- This fiery redhead hasn't had much luck in life, so I'm told. A young orphan, whose father was the victim of the famous On-screen Peacekeeper Scare Ten years back, and a mother who never showed up. Kayton has nothing to lose, Kayton also has a fiery temper that may serve her well in the games. Kayton is an expert at surviving, but will this be just one step too far.

**DISTRICT EIGHT:**

ALEW FEROVE (12)- Hard to believe this kid's twelve, huh? This charming, little prankster is not to be underestimated just because he's small though. Far from it. Alew is a good thinker and is good at coming up with things quickly. If ignored, he could be trouble.

GEORIA HANEL (14)- This albino looks kind of creepy. While she does look conspicuous, she is in fact great when it comes to camouflage. A master of disguise. Georia is, however, afraid of water, which may count against her, and some believe she can suck out others luck. Let's hope that's true, 'cos she's going to need all the luck she can get.

**DISTRICT NINE:**

ZUS RYAOV (17)- A loud mouthed teen with a temper as short as his hair. This boy has a hatred for careers. His skill with a bow and his all around athleticism have caught the eye of several tributes, most notably the careers. A good favorite to win and a thorn in the side of many competitors.

ALLYLA STONE (18)- District Nine's pugnacious princess, Allyla is always ready for a fight and has a slight complex about her weight. She's not to be trifled with at close range and likes to solve disputes with her most powerful weapon. Her fists. Gee, that'll be hard to find in the arena.

**DISTRICT TEN:**

TRENT FLEE (16)- Quiet and contemplative, Trent has never really been much of a worker. Always the thinker, Trent doesn't talk much and is not a very open character. A quick learner and devilish with practically any weapon. His lazy persona may work against him but, if he sticks with others, he might just be able to win this, he'll really need to work harder than he's used to though.

APRIL CONNOLLY (15)- Always a loner back in her home District, April joined the the Hunger Games in the belief that her parents, who she believes may have participated years before. After suffering a violent bout of amnesia (When will they find a cure?) April awoke, only remembering vague shapes, a feather, and the Glorious Hunger Games. Hope she enjoys them!

**DISTRICT ELEVEN:**

SCRATCH STANDARDS (17)- This carefree drifter is practically the epitome of bad upbringing. Even for someone bought up in a District, Scratch hasn't had many breaks. Scratch is an expert with a spear and wants to win to pay back his caring family, who have always given him what they can. What a guy!

LENOX CARTER (14)- Lenox is probably one of the most selfless contestants we've seen in the Games for a long time. Having taken the fall for her younger sister, Lenox has garnered some popularity as the girl who stuck her neck out (or the girl with more heart than brains). She's a nice girl, certainly, but will that work against her?

**DISTRICT TWELVE:**

HYPE TARICK (16)- Hype was once a great career, fighting with soul and sword against his old sparring partner Murp. After going slightly too far, severing Murp's head from his body in an early morning session, Hype swore off all violence for ever. That was a bad move, because now it has been three years, and Hype isn't the skilled warrior he once was. And now he needs those skills. Lets hope it's like riding a bike. You never forget how to fight.

ARIXO VARSITY (17)- Arixo despises those who think that, just because they are rich, they are in charge, and would rather die than let anyone like that *cough* Quentin *cough* from ever winning the tournament. Also a despiser of careers, dresses and make-up, this dual sword wielding competitor is not one to be taken lightly. 'Cos chances you'll end up on the

end of her knife.

FAVOURITES TO WIN:

District 2

District 9

District 1

A/N: The ages are mostly from memory, so please contact me if you think I've got something wrong and it bothers you.

Also, if your tribute has not got in they could have a role in any number of exciting professions.

SUCH AS:

Game Maker

District Mayor

Panem Official

Mentor

Stylist

HG presenter

President (Aww come on, it's been over twenty years, Snow's probably dead!)

Automatically entered next year (I plan to start another as soon as I am a good way through this one)

**If none of this is appealing to you, there are many many Hunger Game play-alongs out there, so why not see if you can enter one of those.**


	2. Reapings part 1

Disclaimer: This Hunger Games may contain scenes with flashing images.

**Introducing**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

_Good morning, I'm Claudius Templesmith and welcome to beautiful, sunny Panem. I'm here at the so called 'Tributes Tower', just waiting in anticipation for the results of the Reaping._ Claudius smiles widely at the screen, before turning to look out over a projection of the districts and then back at the screen.

_Now, it's beautiful weather here but, unfortunately our first District appears to be suffering a slight monsoon. So, get your coats on and slap on some water repellent, because it's going to be wet._

District One:

The camera pans across the factories and landscapes of District One, giving us a glimpse of the crowd who have assembled in the square in the District's heart.

_In District One, tensions are mounting as the various Careers stand ready, each one of them hoping to be our first Tributes._

"And now, without further ado," The escort grins, grinding his teeth slightly and turning to the Mayor, Freeking Awesome

Awesome inspects the crowd through his single eye and beckons with a long finger, "Will this years contestants please step forwards." He growls curtly.

As soon as these words are out of his mouth, a tall boy with spiky hair, that made him look somewhat like a porcupine, is on the stage and the lines of people, who had been standing patiently in front of him, have been utterly demolished.

_Reliable sources tell me that this man is known by the name of Irre Massenhaft, one of this District's Careers, who has been training to enter the Hunger Games for years._

Irre whoops, throwing his fist into the air as the crowds cheer him, and his rather frazzled looking family, who are standing in the audience.

As for female tributes, to start with there is less of a response, as the assembled girls shuffle their feet anxiously.

_Sources also inform me that this years pre-prepared Career, Dazzle Pearlson, was killed in an accident involving a flight of stairs, a sharpened kama, and fellow career Irre Massenhaft. I am standing by for more information._

Some of the girl's shuffle their feet slightly, none of them are fully prepared for the Games yet, and the thought of going out there too early and dying is not a nice one. The escort surveys the crowd for a second, shrugs and prepares to pick a name out of the...

"Essence can do it!" Everyone looks around in shock, standing towards the back of the town square, a tall boy with a mass of tangled curly hair and piercing blue eyes has just finished shouting.

_Glamor Pearlson, younger brother of the aforementioned Dazzle, and set to be next years tribute._

"Essence?" The escort blinks, "Yes, yes, Essence err..."

"Craymaker!" A tall blond haired boy shouts from near the front of the crowd of careers.

"Craymaker! Yes. Will Essence Craymaker kindly come forwards."

_I should probably mention now that, in District One, being volunteered by a friend is in fact a great honour, showing that others have faith in you, and counts for the same amount as volunteering yourself._

Essence blinks and cringes, before turning to Glamor and her brother, Pure, and bowing. The two boys bow back, a sign of thanks and respect in District One (apparently) and, keeping her straight face, Essence walks up to the stage in the center of the square, the people chanting the names of herself and Irre.

Irre grins down at Essence and winks, it isn't a nice smile and Essence recoil from it.

"Oh you're dead kid." Irre roars, before smiling warmly and helping her onto the stage, "Have fun in the arena," he smiles, his face hardening again, "It'll be your last!"

_It's always great to see such a ready spirit among the people of District One. They're really going for it this year. Now we move on to District Two, where our latest pair of Tributes have already volunteered._

District Two:

Two figures stand on stage, staring down at the rows of cheering people who fill the streets of District Two. On stage stands a large man with long black hair and completely black eyes, and a girl with blue eyes that look almost too big for her head and dirty blond hair whoop and cheer, reveling in the attention they get from the crowd.

_Demis Greattooth and Verain Longcast are this years competitors from District Two. They both have a lot of expectations to live up to, so lets hope that they can do it._

Demis grins widely, throwing back his head and howling like an animal, before gripping both Verain and their escort, Augusta Filch, around the neck and drawing them into a crippling hug.

"See you in the final eight beautiful!" Demis chuckles, pressing down slightly too hard on Verain's neck. The girl spits on the floor.

"Don't touch me, freak!"

"Fine. Be that way. I look forward to cutting through your spine, you stuck up little squirt."

"That'll be hard to do with a knife sticking out of you." Verain giggles, flipping a dagger out from her coat to show her severity.

"Smile for the cameras now..." Augusta gags, struggling to be free from the huge boy. Demis grins and lets her go and flexes his muscles as cameras flash all around him. Verain stands tall as her brother and sister cheer her on, whooping and striking at people who get to close with a variety of obviously illegal weaponry. Turning to the camera men Demis gives another howl. Verain rolls her eyes and throws a knife at him, cutting the man's hand and causing Demis to loose some of his concentration. He turns to Verain and pounces on her, punching her in the face as her siblings cut through the crowd to join in and Demis' father leaps onto the stage.

The camera cuts out.

_Hahahahaha! Oh that District Two, always spoiling for a fight! But seriously folks, that sort of attitude could really work against them. Now onto District Three, who's knowledge of technology always makes for interesting tributes._

District Three:

"The first contestant for District Three is, drum roll please..." Behind Capitol Escort Felix Fortissimus a tall, balding man in a battered suit flicks on a machine, that plays the Capitol's national anthem and starts a drum roll.

"Kathrine Ryal!" At the front of the crowd, a pretty girl with red hair and green eyes winces and, for a moment, looks like she's going to burst into tears. She gulps and slowly makes her way onto the stage. The crowds below erupt in a commotion as young men rush forwards, lamenting the horror of her going into the game and offering to accompany her to protect the girl. But that's not how things work in District Three, people can't just stand up and volunteer.

_In District Three tributes must always be chosen democratically so as to remove all favoritism._

Kate smiles, thanking the young men who step forwards, but demanding that they don't help her.

"Everyone's got to die sometime." Kate smiles.

"Excellent." Felix nods, "The next tribute to be going into the Hunger Games is..." The drum roll starts again and Felix picks out a name in an exaggerated fasion. "Jakob Hart." A groan of disappointment comes from the young men who were wanting to protect Kate. The crowd separates and a big nosed, messy haired fourteen year old with big feet and tatty clothes walks up to the platform. He smiles up at Felix, shaking slightly he looks around at his father, who is running the Drum-roll-machine and his smile falters slightly. He takes a small black box out of his pocket, and presses a button.

Felix opens his mouth to speak, but Jakob interrupts, impersonating Felix's voice exactly as he speaks into his tape recorder.

"I think we have our tributes Mr Templesmith." There's a brief pause as people realise that it isn't Felix who has just spoken. And then the square erupts with laughter, which the commentator joins in, though his laughter is forced. Felix growls and storms of the stage and Jakob walks up to Kate.

"We should stick together in the arena. People last longer like that." Kate smiles at the younger boy.

"My, using laughter to distract people from us, are we?"

"That's the plan!"

"You're smarter than I thought Hart."

"Well, you've got your skills. I've got mine..."

_Ah. What a breath of fresh air, finally some laughter from a tribute. I think we might just have found a favorite with the guys too._

_But, the clocks ticking, so lets move on to District Four, the fisherman's District..._

District Four:

Pizzo looks down at the crowd in front of him. They cheer as he steps onto the stage. Pizzo grins and gives them a thumbs up. Oh how he wished his parents could see him, Pizzo Ottious, escort, Hunger Games commentator and most popular Capitol official ever to set foot in District Four. The man who had illegally sponsored his own tributes to allow District Four to win last years Hunger Games. Oh how they loved him. Pizzo Ottious, greatest man in the univer...

A can sails through the air and impacts hard with Pizzo's head.

OK, not everyone loved him.

"DISTRICT FOUR!" Pizzo roars, his sizable belly bouncing slightly as he shouts, "ARE YOU READY TO BECOME MORE THAN MERE CHILDREN?" The people cheer, one little girl near the front jumps in the air and several non-careers raise their fishing rods.

"MORE THAN MEN? MORE THAN LEGENDS?" The cheering increases and Pizzo revels in it.

"ARE YOU READY TO BE GODS AMONG MEN?" The crowd roars in excitement, and as Pizzo asks for volunteers, a group of careers surge the stage. Pizzo begins to sweat as the people batter each other in their attempts to lea onto the platform and, in the HGTV studio, Claudius' co-workers fall over themselves with laughter. Eventually two figures manage to squeeze their way onto the stage. One by darting through the fight, the other by ignoring the tussle and simply using the stairs. Intelligence wasn't generally a good attribute when one was looking for Careers. Pizzo smiles at the two contestants standing next to him. Finally some careers shorter than he was! The boy smiles widely, winking at the audience and garnering an aww from most of the women in the crowd. He smiled, staring up at Pizzo through huge, pool-like green eyes and Pizzo felt himself slightly taken aback. The fourteen year old brushed a wavy brown hair out of his eyes and regarded the audience.

"Hello, my name is Blake Kaitz, and thith year, I will be happy to represent th-th-thith District in th-the Hunger Games." He smiles widely, and the people in the crowd immediately start cheering his name, the stutter and the lisp just serving to make him sweeter and more innocent. Jules Radcliff sneers, most of the women had lost interest in her, but she still holds the attention of said women's disgusted boyfriends, who seem to believe that ignoring Blake would be a useful way to vent their frustrations.

"My name is Jules Radcliff!" Jules shouts over the screaming women, "And this year I am determined to win! I don't care how long it takes or where I have to go! I am going to win this!" The men grin, she may look young and frail, but if cheering the girl was going to get the attention of their girlfriends back, they'd do it.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" Pizzo roars, his voice cracking slightly, "I GIVE YOU YOUR TRIBUTES!"

_Seems like those tributes'll be hard to beat. Our next District is a little different as well. I'm told that the male tribute, Quentin Rapido, has been lined up to enter this year since he was five. So, we've only got to choose one tribute in..._

District Five:

The mayor, Heartford Rapido, surveys the children spread out below him with cold eyes. A can sails through the air and Heartford catches it. He turns to his son, looking up and down the bespectacled, hunch-backed career as though he were the finest most handsome boy in the world.

"Who wants to join my brave boy up here on the stage?" None of the girls he has displayed before him answer. Another can flies through the air, hitting Quentin in the face, and Heartford feels a surge of pride as Quentin grabs the small boy responsible and dashes his head against the side of the stage.

_The boy who has just assaulted competitor Quentin Rapido is local upstart Toto Hoolan. He will be taken to the local hospital to look at his head injuries, and will then be publicly flogged by the Peacekeepers for assault._

"No one..." Heartford smiles, pushing his horn rimmed glasses further up his long nose, "How about." His hand sails over the names and he draws out a piece of paper with a name on it, opening it before replacing it and drawing another. "Miss Teagan Cooper." At his words, a twelve year old girl is escorted onto the stage and thrown at Heartford's feet. He smiles and reaches down to help her up, grabbing her small hand in his large, overly muscled one and forcing her to her feet.

"You're here to make my son look good," Heartford growls, "You will protect him with your own life or, so help me, I will have. Every. Last. One. Of your little friends publicly executed." Teagan glowers up at him and Heartford throws back his head, laughing.

"Oh I know it seems utterly pointless and not at all beneficial to swear to kill off many of the young population of the District just to assure that you die and my son lives, but that's just the sort of man I am. A petty violent man, capable of coming up with cliched ways to moivate people." He turns and pulled Teagan to her feet before walking over and patting his son hard on the back "Good luck!" Heartford grins, turning and walking away.

_Looks like that Teagan Cooper has got quite some motivation to win. Don't think she'll have much chance though, not with the tributes we've already seen tonight on her tail, and maybe she'll find herself on the wrong end of these next two contestants as well..._

District Six:

"Emery Lox and Phillip Sutton!" The fast talking escort for District Six, Mellisa Scorpia screeches. Silence falls as, from within the crowd of figures, a boy and a girl drag themselves onto the stage. Emery shudders, staring over at Phillip, a close friend of hers who she has known since childhood. She smiles at him, and he smiles back as Mellisa raises her hands, signaling that the people below her should be clapping. Emery groans. Why Phillip? Why did it have to be Phillip? Phillip Sutton who went everywhere with her and shared his dad's medicine with her when she got hurt? Phillip who always got the short end of the straw? Phillip who got berated by their fathers every time one of her plans went awry? Why did it have to be him? Why not Jericho or someone like that? She blinks again, trying to hold back tears as Mellisa finishes her speech in record time and takes both children by the hand, leading them off the stage with the cameras following them.

Emery wracks her brains some more, thinking back...

Come to think of it,why wouldn't she want Phillip with her? After all, she knew she could trust him and there was no one in the world who could diagnose antidotes and medicines better than he. What was she even worrying about, Phillip was smart. And they were going to get through this together.

"...And that's why I'm sure the Capitol will be thrilled to have you." Melissa concludes, turning the corner and directing them towards a dark skinned woman with black hair and numerous scars dressed in short jeans and a t-shirt. Both Emery and Phillip recognize her immediately...

_Kai Keoloha, age 22, winner of the 88__th__ Hunger Games. Famous for being the only tribute ever to have won to stick with an ally until the final eight and equally as famous for killing three better armed Careers in a fist fight lasting three hours._

Emery gulped. This wasn't going to be fun.

_We're about halfway through the reapings right now, so it's time for a short break. When we return we'll be answering some age old question. Such as:_

_What happens when you stick a pyromaniac in a forest?_

_Who would win in a fight, a squad of Peacekeepers or a massive Eighteen year old?_

_What happened to Katniss and Peeta and why the Districts would be wise to remember it?_

_What is our beloved presidents take on all of this?_

_And why is everyone hear a redhead?_

_I'm Claudius Templesmith and we'll be right back!_


	3. Reapings part 2

A/N: Whoo. Over 700 hits! Unfortunately it turned out that my First chapter broke some guidelines and I had to delete it (that might be why some of you couldn't review). You may have some trouble reviewing this chapter too. Sorry...

OK after that rather too long break, it's back to the story...

**And now we return to**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

_Welcome back! I'm Claudius Templesmith and we're about halfway through the selection of Tributes who will have what is literally a once in a lifetime chance to walk away from here with our fantabulous prize! Let's go see who our next pair of luck contestants are..._

District Seven:

"Ash?" Hamlet Viridis, the slow talking, ginger Escort of District Seven looks around, holding a piece of paper high above his head and gazing down at the stunned faces of the crowd below him. "Ash... Vernon? Are any of you... or have any of you... ever been... Ash? Or some other black... powdery substance, perhaps?" He shrugs and stares at a few people covered in wood shavings, looking into each and every one of their eyes before continuing.

"Maybe... it is a mistake?" He turns to the mayor, a short jovial man by the name of Tract Cresten. Tract shakes his head, and Hamlet watches as a large red-headed boy is dragged through the crowd by the Peacekeepers, and thrown at his feet.

"We found him trying to start a fire in the forest, Mr Viridis." One of the Peacekeepers growls, "Normally we'd just whip 'em or kill 'em, but the arena's a better place for his sort!"

"Ash?" Viridis inquires, bending down to the massive teen, who grins up at him from the floor.

"Pyro." The lanky teen whispers. Viridis wrinkles his nose, standing to his feet before walking back into center stage and drawing another name. He holds it up for a minute, squinting through his glasses to see it better and mutters the name.

"Kathie Rogue?" The girl in the front row, a short girl with long red hair (a common hair colour in District Seven... apparently) breaths a sigh of relief, and gives a cheery thumbs up to an older boy, who looks disturbingly like her, in the audience. Tract groans, stretching over to Viridis and whispering into his ear.

"K-thong... Rots?" Hamlet mutters, before blinking and turning to Tract, "Speak... up... please." Tract buries his face in his hands turning to look at his tall, and rather over imposing wife, who rolls her eyes, before screeching at the top of her lungs...

"KAYTON ROYS!" The girl winces, and the red haired boy, who is standing at the front of the crowd, begins to shout and push towards her, only to be restrained by Peacekeepers.

"Stay where you are, sir!" One of them growls, "That daughter of a dead man is of no importance to you." This is, evidently, a lie, as the boy, Laken, begins to scream and shout, causing his two younger siblings to do the same.

"Kayton! Kayton! You can't!" He stares up at Tract and his wife, Liala or, as he knows them, his mother and father. Liala smiles back down at him, raising a slender finger to her mouth and shushing him. Laken's siblings gulp and are quiet in an instant, but Laken himself continues to holler, albeit with eyes that are full of fear.

Kayton shrugs, walking up to the stage and standing there, her frown is exact, as if drawn on her face with a ruler and her eyebrows, precisely measured with a spirit level. Viridis says a few words, taking almost ten minutes to do so. Kayton gulps, looking over at the other tribute, a boy she knows only as 'Pyro', who is trying to set light to the edge of the stage. Laken roars up at her, telling her to run, telling the crowd to help, hurling abuse at the near deaf escort, but Kayton doesn't move an inch. Tract nods at her as he leaves the stage, not a clue who she is, but a kindly smile playing on his face. Liala spits on the ground as she passes, though, lowering her head so as to mutter to the short girl.

"Now maybe I can get you off my back..." She hisses, tossing her hair and flouncing away. Kayton groans, watching as Liala marches through the smoke, smacking Laken across the ear and barking at him to follow. He looks back at Kayton through tear stained eyes, before trotting away from the fume covered platform.

A single tear drops from Kayton's eye. And she opens her mouth to shout something to him.

Before the smoke from the fire Pyro has set rises up in a choking sheet, and everything goes black.

_Ah true love... Or sibling love... Or friendship. I can't tell. I'll have_ to look into which one it is. Anyway, that kid with the fire should prove 'interesting' in the arena.

And, talking about interesting, lets go straight to District Eight, where we've got some real shockers to show you!

District Eight:

The audience shuffles restlessly, each one trying to stand as far as possible away from the small, albino girl who stands near the back, clutching a necklace made with large wooden beads in her pale, spindly hands. She fidgets, staring around her through large, night-black, eyes. The girl atumbles, bumping into a taller girl who growls at her, pushing her away and brushing off the dust where the small child has touched her. Georia Hanel was bad luck. Everyone knew that. Everyone thought they knew that anyway. She's the girl who had burnt down her house the day she was born and, right now, standing in the town square, it is obvious that everyone is hoping that she is going to be the girl whose name is picked. Georia looks over at the escort, a tall woman with a hooked nose and incredibly thick glasses. The woman smiles at her, blinks and holds up a piece of paper.

"Miss Georia Hanel." She states. The little albino winces.

Her name.

She looks around her.

A slow beat starts in the background. All around the little girl.

_Wait, wait, I think we're getting something here._

The girl begins to walk up to the stage as the beat slowly increases growing stronger and louder, pierced by the occasional shout.

_It... kinda sounds like... clapping?_

The woman lifts a second name out of the hat.

"A Mr Alew Ferove." No one cares. Barely anyone can even hear past the joyous roar in Georia's ears.

"YOU'RE KIDDING, RIGHT? THIS IS A TRICK! YOU'RE TRYING TO TRICK ME!" A high-pitched voice roars, as a skinny boy whose face is covered in freckles and looks no older than eight or nine, begins to force his way through the cloud. Face streaked with tears.

And still the chanting doesn't stop.

_Yes. Yes! They're definitely clapping down here Claudius._

Georia holds her hands up to her own tearful eyes, covering them with her hands as she steps on stage.

_Not only that but..._

The commentator falters, lost for words.

_Ah God, you should see these kids. Th-they can barely stand up straight. One of them doesn't even look twelve and- and the audience is cheering them. I-It's horrifying. These kids obviously don't wanna be here but the crowd is just so pleased about it. I-I can't do this. Cut. Cut!_

Back in the studio, Claudius dabs his eyes theatrically, before resuming his winning smile, and turning back to the cameras.

_What a downer, huh? Let's hope the next District gives us some much needed comedy..._

District Nine:

"Zus Ryaov! Zus Ryaov!" The escort roars as, down in the square, a large boy does the same, hurling himself at the nearest Peacekeeper, a look of fury on his face.

"YOU CAN'T DO ZIS!" Zus roars, his words running together in his anger "WHAT THE **** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING?"

_Viewers are reminded that, for decencies sake, inappropriate language shall be censored until after the watershed._

Zus smacks the Peacekeeper across the head before slamming his leg into the man's stomach and knocking him to the floor. His mother shakes her head, hiding her smile behind her hand, but his brothers...

_Tuvia, Asael and LaSoyle Ryaov_

Cheer for him relentlessly. Zus grins, smacking another Peacekeeper in the mouth as he gets closer and glaring another down with one of the scariest grimaces ever seen on TV. He grabs a paving slab off of the ground and feeling a hand on his shoulder, spins round and smacks the figure in the face.

The blind girl falls backwards, hitting the paving slabs. She lies there for a second, her white hair a mess, Zus staring down at her, a look of horror on his face.

_Yikes. This won't be good for publicity._

The girl turns her head away from Zus, covering where he hit her with her hands. He kneels down, somehow managing to swear under his breath and apologize profusely at the same time. She looks up at him and smiles. Then she leaps to her feet, bringing her leg up and kicking him in the face. Zus falls back, stunned and the studio audience in Panem groan in sympathy.

"You get up there lunk head," The blind girl, Malbrey Chack, grins, "Save the fighting and punching stuff for the arena."

"Whatever the **** ya say Mal." Zus grins, turning to walk onto the stage. When a commotion breaks out on the other side of the square. The Peacekeepers rush to deal with it, and suddenly fall back, as a fist sails through the air and breaks one of their jaws. A massive girl steps onto the stage, staring down at Zus through silver eyes and matted hair.

"Alylla Stone!" The huge, large nosed escort roars "Our District's first volunteer in almost sixty years."

"RYAOV!" Allya roars looking around for the boy but seeing only blurred shapes in front of her, "YOU'RE GONNA DIE RYAOV! I'M GONNA MAKE SURE THAT I'M THE ONE TO TAKE DOWN THE O-SO-MIGHTY ZUS! THIS HUNGER GAMES KID!" She raises her arms victoriously, basking in applause. Zus gulps, swearing and taking a step forwards, this wasn't going to be pretty.

"Go Zus!" LaSoyle shouts behind him, throwing him an odd little vial. Zus turns, grinning as he walks up to the stage, and the mountainous girl waiting for him.

_Yikes. I wouldn't like to get on the wrong end of those two tributes, looks like they could really be trouble. But we can't dwell too much on that, so I guess that means it's on to..._

District Ten:

"April Connoly?" Thebes Horrors, the balding escort of District Ten blinks in shock.

"Yes. What's so odd about it?"

"You are volunteering, you realise that?"

"Yes."

"It is, not so often that people volunteer here, miss."

"So." Thebes sighs. This girl is trying to get herself killed. He looks around, wishing that he could show a little more backbone, feel proud that someone had volunteered for the District. But how could he, secretly, Thebes hated the games. He had only joined because the pay was good and his five children thought it would be a fun idea for daddy to be on TV. He looks up.

"I have a daughter named April..." Thebes groaned, "You look like her. Try not to die, please." April rolls her eyes. "I just need answers," She tuts, "Once I've got them I can win this easily." Thebes nods, reaching out and picking another name.

"Trent Flee."

Near the back of the square, three figures, a woman and two men, heave a sigh and stare at a fourth figure. Their brother, Trent Flee. He gets to his feet, face hidden behind a wall of hair and, trying to avoid the gazes of his siblings, as well as a smartly dressed, pretty looking girl who had been standing near him at the time, makes his way up to the stage. April looks down at him. Her face set in stone. Most of the crowd don't seem to have noticed him. She shrugs, why should she care.

"I just need to find some answers." She mutters to herself, before noticing that Trent is now standing right next to her.

"We all need to find answers..." Trent whispers back, "The first question is what answers you're looking for..." April groans, he sounds so much like those philosophers her dad had... wait, what had she been thinking?

"April... Fourth month in the old calender... New life... And my mother's name." Trent smiles, and April backs away from him slightly.

"Look. I just need to find out what happened to my family. I was looking through the census and..."

"Census? The one in the District hall? How did you..."

"Snuck in. Anyway, I found something. About the Games."

"Life is a game..." Trent smiles, "We just need to know..." He trails off, as April's foot sails through the air, and smacks into his stomach.

_Ouch. And up steps another Career. Has anyone noticed that there's a serious lack of emotion with these kids. I mean, normally they cry more. Ah well, we're running over slightly so I guess we have to plow straight on to..._

District Eleven:

"Felecia Carter."

Down in the square, two children, one boy one girl, burst into tears.

_Now that's more like it! Some tears._

The girl whimpers, looking at her brother, Felix and limping slowly towards the stage.

_District Eleven dictates that, once somebody has stepped onto the stage, they cannot be replaced._

Felecia stumbles, pulling herself to her feet and carrying on, tripping again as she reaches the stage. She lifts her foot, wincing in pain and collapsing again, before reaching out to the stage and, stretching her fingers, prepares to pull herself up onto it, tears streaming down her face.

"She can't!"

_Ah come on!_

The crowd turn, staring at the speaker. A tall black haired girl who closely resembles both Felecia and her brother. "You can't separate them."

"Says who?" The escort smiles thinly.

"Says me. Lenox Carter."

"Her sister?" Lenox smiles and nods, walking past Felecia and stepping onto the stage. Felecia and Felix gasp, both children running, or hobbling, up to her and shouting for her not to go. Lenox looks down and, much to the delight of the somewhat sadistic commentator of District Ten, tears begin to roll down her face. The escort rolls her eyes, picking another name and smirking.

"Scratch Standards." In the crowd, a tall messy haired boy gives a sad little moan. He steps forward, looking each one of his family in the eye as he makes his way towards the stage.

"One less worker." He mutters, gulping back tears. He forces a smile onto his face, turning to his distraught little brother and winking cheerfully. He steps onto the stage, walking up to the escort and raises his hand towards the woman. She sniffs and turns away from Scratch and his smile widens. Scratch winks at Lenox and his hand balls into a fist. He spins around, smacking th escort across the face and causing her to fall to the ground.

"That's for taking me away from my family." Scratch grins, as the escort pulls herself to her feet, calling for Peacekeepers and asking where the forcefield was.

_Wow. That certainly was a climactic ending. It'll be hard for District Twelve. The so called 'Loser District' to top that. Lets just get this over with._

District Twelve:

"Zally Krez!" Arixo's ears prick up as she hears the name. She looks over at the girl next to her, who smiles giddily and begins to giggle. More out of fear than anything else. Arixo stares at the girl as she tried to stop giggling long enough to actually get onto the stage, or at least wipe the tears away from her eyes. Arixo smiles sympathetically at the girl, raising three fingers in salute and stepping forwards.

"I volunteer!"

_Oh God, not another one... _The rather snarky commentator groans. He had been there back when Katniss had volunteered, and had come to the conclusion that, when you had seen something once, seeing it again within fifty years was a very bad thing.

Zally smiles over at Arixo, wiping her eyes with her hand, before hugging Arixo tightly and saluting her. Arixo smiled. Zally would never have been able to win. She was weak and didn't know how to use any weapons. And she was too kind. Too nice to ever possibly survive in the arena. Arixo looks round, someone else is saluting her too. Not with the normal three fingers. No. The hand is the wrong way around and only two fingers are raised. A 'v' shape. Or a peace sign, Arixo seemed to remember something like that from a History book. The boy gives a grin, raising a grubby hand past his guitar ant to his mouth. He takes a bite out of a cube of Jello, chewing it as he stares at her, before turning into the crowd and muttering something about 'Murp'. Arixo groans. Hype Tarick. The reason District Twelve was called the 'Loser District'. District Twelves failed attempt at a Career fighter. She steps onto the stage, and waits to see who would be joining her in the arena.

"Hype Tarick." Arixo face palms. Hype looks up and gulps.

"Duuuude." Hype splutters, "This is, like, like," he stumbles and falls, "Fight the power maaan..." Tarick frowns as he looses consciousness.

_BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Sorry. That kind of reaction just gets me every time. Hilarious._

Claudius composes himself and grins cheerfully at the screen.

_Well, looks like we're all out of time here. Join us in an hour for President Deer's annual speech as well as more information about our Careers and which five lucky Victors will be joining us this year to watch the Hunger Games from the President's private box to relive the wonders of the arena, and tell us what they think about their tributes._

_Let us know who you like, who you hate, and who (other than your own tributes) you think has a shot at winning). We'll also be accepting ideas for traps and your own suggestions for alliances and romances, so think hard Tributes, 'cos it's gonna be a tough time ahead of you._

_Happy Hunger Games._

Fanfare, Credits and Fade to Black.


	4. Training Sessions

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

_But First, a message from our beloved President:_

The audience applaud. There is a stage erected in front of the tributes tower and a small group of people stand on it. A tall, imposing man with jet black hair and skin the colour and complexion of oil licks his lips and raises a glass to the crowd. His eyes are magenta with black dragons seemingly tattooed on them and the crowd falls silent as he opens his mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen," The man grins with sharpened triangular teeth, the words slipping out of his mouth like treacle, "The Senate is back!" The crowd applaud and the tall man gives a short bow, before turning and handing the microphone to a short, mousy woman with blue hair and eyes that obviously had one colour change operation too many, and look like they've melted. She smiles and gives a little giggle and beckons her husband, a short, baldin, hunch-backed man by the name of Mr Book, and children to the stage.

"Ms. President," The tall man, Flavius Thorn, hisses, leaving the stage as the woman starts to speak.

"People of Panem!" The President squeaks, her high pitched voice ringing clearly over the din of the audience, "Lend me your ears! Today, I stand before you, not as your President. Not as the Mother and Saviour of the honour and the dignity and the greatness of Panem! Not even as the simple city girl who rose through the ranks of the corrupt system laid down, Thirty-Five years ago by the monstrous President Coin, to eventually take power in glorious rebellion. While I am all of those things..." She pauses, waiting for those who have fallen asleep to wake up, "I do not stand here as any of those things. No. I stand here as a living calender."

In the Districts, some of the members of the crowd groan in annoyance, and are instantly set upon by Peacekeepers.

Back on the stage the woman's grin widens, losing all charm, and she steps out the way, watching as a large glass platform lifts out of the floor. The President smiles, looking over at the platform and motioning to a young woman who lies there, battered and bruised. Her head is caved in, she is covered in skin grafts and part of her head is caved in.

"I present to you, ladies and gentlemen, Katniss Everdeen. The Mockingjay. And a victim of Coin's sick and twisted regime. She stood for everything we hate. Everything we are not. I myself was born on the very day of the disgusting farce known as the Capitol Hunger Games. Twenty Four..." Flavius grins, bending down and whispering in her ear, making his voice just loud enough so that the crowd can hear.

"Twenty Three."

"Twenty Three beautiful, talented, young children were cut down in their prime, in a barbaric death match that they called entertainment." The President gives another giggle, "I would also like to point out my daughter Eutrepe, who is looking adorable with greenish skin, having had her first skin graft earlier this morning.

"Thank you Ms. President, for those kind words," Flavius grins, "We will now return you to your previous entertainment.

_Barbarians those Districts, _Claudius smiles, _I can't believe how far we've come in only twenty years. Anyway, our Twenty Four tributes are all here now and ready to meet each other. We've given them a couple of... minutes to get to know the place, so now it's time for them to start training, 'cos we've only got so much material here, and this lame 'preperation' thing doesn't draw the audience._

Claudius grins for a few seconds as we are transported down to the Tributes Tower's cafeteria where the tributes, their escorts and even a few trainers have been seated in a circle around a tall blue eyed man with florescent yellow hair that hangs down over his eyes. The man gives a cough that sounds like it shatters a couple of ribs and begins to speak.

"Welcome." He grins, his rasping voice carrying throughout the hall. "My name is Zitheneals Denair, Head Game Maker. You may address me as Mr Denair or simply Sir. Now, before we start, a few ground rules..."

The escort for District Six giggles, reminded of her misspent youth at summer camps. The other escorts and tributes stare at her and she shuts up.

"No visiting the other floors of the tower. Only here, your own and the training rooms. No running in the halls. No talking back. No inappropriate contact between members of the opposite, or should the case be same, sex while in the tower or between the hours of three in the morning and nine at night in the arena." By now even the terrified tributes are starting to wonder if this guy is serious and drifting off. "And finally," Denair grins, his face contorting as a thin bead of blood trickles down his lips, "I don't expect you to enjoy this. I know that this ain't no picnic and that none of you will ever come out. I'm not gonna give you anything about 'glory' or 'honour'. It's a bloodbath out there. And I'm gonna love watching you all die."

He pauses, surveying the group. "Have lunch and be in the communal training room in exactly one hour." He turns, coughing again, and lurching out the door.

On the table closest the wall, the tributes from District Six lean to their escort, who sits with them.

"What's his problem?" Emery asks, her voice dripping with cynicism. Melissa shrugs, giggiling at the question.

"How would I know? I was just a kid back when he was in the Games. You can't expect me to know where he got that silly cough."

"The Games?" Emery squeaks, forgetting to be quiet around the other tributes as her voice carries across the whole room "That guy was in the Games?"

_Ah yes, _Claudius voice interrupts, _The famous 'Panem Games' in which the young children of Panem were forced to fight to the death in a barbaric fashion. Our lovely Head Games Maker, 'Zea' Derain is famous for such horrific acts as ripping a fellow competitors spine out of his back and crushing the head of Nix Snow, the girl he was reported to have loved, with his foot._ The intercom shuts off and, on the Careers table, the seven tributes begin to plan.

"A past victor? That'sh b-bad." Blake Kaitz whimpers, garnering the instant sympathy of Essence Craymaker, who offers him some of her food.

"This is gonna be fun!" Irre laughs.

"This." Demis growls picking up Irre and pinning him to the wall, "Is gonna be difficult." He bends over, beckoning the other Careers into a huddle before beginning to speak again.

"We're gonna need to be careful out there this year. If the Games Makers are Victors then they're sure to know the best ways to kill someone in the arena. What works and what doesn't. We can't just rely on lying low and hoarding food to kill off the others this time." Essence shivers slightly obviously not liking where this is going.

"Kill them?" She asks.

"Kill them." Verain nods. "Quickly as possible. If this thing draws out it could get messy." Essence gulps.

"Yeah," Jules buts in, "I say we take out the kids first. You know, the weak one's. For practice."

"Agreed. The weak one's are easy to kill near the beginning and, if you leave them, they generally trick you with some over the top scheme." Demis licks his lips, relishing the thought of killing them. Essence gives a groan, sickened, and turns away from the group.

"What's the matter with you?" Verain sneers.

"I can't do this!" shouts Essence, stomping away, and drawing the eyes of most of the other tributes as she does so, "It's sick! I was OK with it at first but, I'm not killing little kids or anything sick like that!" She whips her hair around, gives a shout of indignation and hurries to her Districts floor before anyone can stop her. On one of the tables, Lenox Carter turns to look at Scratch Standards, who is busy trying to turn his toast into a miniature replica of the Tributes Tower. She rolls her eyes and taps him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention.

"What do you think of her?" Lenox smiles.

"Kid's got guts." Scratch shrugs, "And we need someone who's good with weapons."

"Think we should get her on side?"

"It couldn't hurt." Scratch shrugs, before turning back to his city scape. And starting work on the shrubs around it.

_Well, the toast tower is looking good, _Claudius quips as we return to him, _But the President house of peas needs a lot of work._

_Now. I'm very happy to tell you that the invitations have been sent, the Peacekeepers have been drafted and all five Victors who we requested the company of have come along. Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce to you to our first Victor._

_Fresh from District One. Winner of the 86__th__ Hunger Games, Zard Frezal. _A tall muscular man with brown hair and red eyes waves to the screen and gives a thumbs up. _Famous among fans for creating an alliance entirely from female careers and convincing them, late in the game, that walking into a minefield was a good idea. Thus being able to win the game easily._

Frezal glares at the screen and pouts.

"I told you both of those things were accidents!"

_Sure. Anyway. We'll be interviewing Zard and a bunch of other Victors including the beloved victor of the 77__th__ Hunger Games, Linkous Lamont and of course, the great Haymitch Abernathy, winner of the fiftieth Hunger Games. See ya later folks!_

**After the break:**

The training room is filled with commotion and noise, as all of the tributes have opted to spend the first day of training in the room in an attempt to learn new skills and practice old ones. Essesnce enters the room, having just recovered from a panic attack having dropped out of the Careers alliance before the break. She crosses the floor, waving to District Eleven, who seem to be practicing their swords play on a wooden dummy. Essence walks over to them, expecting the usual recoiling response that she gets from most of the other tributes, but Lenox welcomes her over. Essence smiles as she watches Scratch charge a dummy. He misses and falls forwards, into the thing, knocking it over. Essence giggles, helping him up and picking a sword out of the rack herself. She was never particularly good with a sword but, as a career, she was certainly better with one than Scratch. She spins on her toes, decapitating the doll with one hit, and earning an approving clap from Scratch and Lenox.

"Nice job." Lenox smiles, "We could use someone like you."

"Like what?" Essence smiles sweetly, trying to show Scratch the best way to use one's sword properly.

"Like you! I mean, you're a Career, there aren't that many of them around who would work with us regular tributes, and it's kind of you to help us out for no reason like this." Essence laughs, so that was what they were out to get. She took a step away from the Careers, noticing that the little blond girl over by the plant identification table was staring at her. She shivers and looks back at Scratch. The older boy has some how managed to ram the blade through the dummy and force it to the ground. She rolls her eyes, sure these tributes may only want her because it's an advantage, but they seemed nice enough.

"You want me in an alliance?" Lenox nods to Essence, and the Career grins "Sure."

Furtherer down the arena, Jakob Hart turns to look at Kate, who is watching a grubby brown haired boy spin a mace around his head.

"How'd it go?" Jakob asks in an imitation of the President's squeaky giggle.

"Not all that well, the Careers are total jerks and that Blake kid is staring at me again."

"Oh, him. Yeah, he's just mad 'cos that Verain girl isn't impressed by his cutesy act."

"You?"

"District Eleven's just made an alliance with that girl from District One and I'm pretty sure that that's bad. I'd suggest finding some kid to protect our ass." Kate nodded, watching as the mace that Hype Tarick had been spinning made contact with the dummy, sending bits of its head flying off in different directions.

"Woah." Hype grinned, "I didn't know I'd, like, still got that crazy mojo, you know." He looked over to his left where Alylla Stone, who had been hit by a bit of the doll head, does not look at all happy. She gives a roar, ripping the doll she has been working on out of the ground, and hurling it across the room at Hype. Hype jumps, dodging out of the way and straightening up.

"Woah chick. You gotta ease up." He smiles, before being promptly landed on by the enraged girl and punched square in the jaw. Zus roars with laughter, sending another arrow into the heart (and out of the back) of another dummy, as the guards and trainers run past him to break up the fight. He smiles, winking to the stunned Alew Ferove, who seems to be watching his skill in a kind of stunned silence. Meanwhile Alew's own partner sits at the poisonous plant identification table, listening to April and Trent, who are in the middle of a heated verbal battle.

"I said I don't want to be a part of some stupid alliance with you!" April roars, "I just want answers."

"One cannot find answers..." Trent groans, "If you persevere in the darkness..."

"W-What's that supposed to mean?" Georia asks, looking around anxiously.

"You can't just go off..." Trent groans, "You will die..."

"I won't die." April snarls, "Not before I get answers." She stands, aggravated, and walks away from the group, doubtless off to train some more.

"Dogmatic dullard..." Trent whispers, leaning over towards Georia, "You need help... I do likewise... Truce..." It takes Georia a moment to work out that he is asking for an alliance, but when she does, she nods hesitantly. "Good..."

Nearby, the poisonous bug identification table is crowded with people. The Careers huddle together as they try to work out a plan of action, whilst Jules and Irre try to work out which bug is which.

"No, no, that one's poisonous!" Jules groans, slapping the bug out of the massive boy's hands. Irre gives a laugh, smacking her painfully on the back with his hand in a manner that was supposed to seem friendly, before swallowing the bug anyway. He collapses, his head smacking into the table before recovering.

"Don't seem so bad." Irre grins, turning to a stunned Jules, "Once you get past the fact that I think part of my brain just died, it's actually kinda pleasant." Jules giggles and Irre picks up another handful of bugs, not even bothering to check what they are before swallowing them whole.

"I'm telling you!" Quentin whines, pressing his face close up to Demis, "I'm a Career!" Demis throws back his head and howls, slamming the palm of his hand into Quentin's face and dislodging his glasses.

"Tell you what," Demis snarls, "You survive the bloodbath, you're in. You die. Well I'm sure you can work it out four eyes." Demis lets out another howl as Quentin turns, marching away. He gives an angry roar, stopping only to punch over the dummy that fellow tribute, Teagan Cooper was about to drive a spear into, causing her to trip and miss. She turns, wincing as she is helped to her feet by the massive boy from District Seven. She gulps, even up close he looks scary.

"You don't wanna do that kid." He laughs, his croaky voice making him sound very creepy indeed, "Falling in battle can be a real problem." He gives another harsh laugh, spinning her around and ripping out a clump of hair, which he ties to the dummy. In seconds the dummy is alight, and everyone's attention is on him. His partner, Kayton Roys groans, sometimes Pyro could be such an attention hogger.

"So..." She spins round quickly, she hadn't noticed that boy from District Ten sneak up on her, but now that she thought about it, he'd been standing behind her for quite some time. Maybe she was just too busy training to notice him. "Your partner seems a bit... unstable..."

"He's not my partner," Kayton cringes at the thought, her hand inadvertently reaching to the choker necklace that Laken had given to her.

"What's that..." Trent smiles in what he believes to be sympathy but just comes across as weird.

"Oh! My brother gave it to me." Kayton says.

_Kayton Roys, you should probably know, does not have a brother. She is, in fact, an orphan._

"Brother..." Trent crinkles his nose in suspicion, "You seem to be a nice girl... Would you like to join an alliance..."

"Sure. Sure. Why not?"

"Excellent..." Trent turns, his eyes glinting and marches away. A quite sizable alliance, he thought, five people. It would bode him well in the arena.

Meanwhile, over by the range weapon training area, Phillip Sutton looks around, throwing another knife that misses the target by a country mile. He groans, even Emery, an almost exclusively close range fighter, seemed to be getting the hang of it. But not him. There was another girl standing to his left. A dark girl with green eyes who seemed to be able to throw two daggers at once and have both of them hit their target. She grinned over at Phillip and gave a giggle as his next dagger missed its mark again. Arixo turns away, covering her mouth with her hand as she walks over to the trap setting station.

Was this the best that those other Districts could really offer?

She laughs out loud as she marches towards the station. Passing the struggling girl from District Eight, the shifty looking boy from District Three and Hype, the hippy idiot from her own district.

And above all of this, Mr Denair watches the tributes train.

Watches and laughs.

_Spooky._

_We'll be back tomorrow to see these tributes finish their training and, perhaps, get a sneak peak at their private sessions. I promise nothing mind. We'll also interview some of the mentors and recap the alliances and romances if there's anything you want to change._

_Happy Hunger Games._

Fanfare, Credits and Fade to Black.


	5. Private Sessions part 1

A/N: The Arena is now very close, so I want everyone to think about where their loyalties lie. As you may have noticed I didn't give you the option of Bloodbath. This is because it is hard to kill someone when the majority of the cornucopia is underwater. Besides, they're going to have other things to worry about in the Arena!

Disclaimer: Watching too much Hunger Games can seriously damage your health.

**Welcome to a very special episode of**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games!**

_'Hello and welcome to the show. Today is the day of the Private sessions and our tributes, having been spending the past few days working hard in order to impress the judges. They now have just a few hours left in which to train with their mentors, in which time they'll doubtless be working hard to find some sort of strategy. Let's see how they're getting on!'_

**DISTRICT ONE:**

_'With only a few minutes to go until the private sessions starts, the Careers are really starting to feel the heat. And not just because they're on the roof!'_

Near the edge of the roof, Irre and Verain batter each other with their fists whilst Jules stands nearby, apparently still trying to identify which bugs are poisonous using a battered old book given to her by her mentor, a woman by the name of Ebony Raven, who stands nearby. Over in another corner, sitting on a heavily decorated picnic bench (that HGTV had moved to the roof for scenic effect), is Essence. She glares daggers at the other Careers, burying her face in her hands as she regrets her choice of becoming a Career in the first place. Her mentor, Zard Frezal, groans, seeing her as he steps onto the roof, and sits down beside her.

"You can't do this on your own, you know." Zard smiles widely, his surgically altered teeth literally glinting in the sunlight, "Everyone needs some help to win."

"I've got help." Essence mutters.

"Oh really," Zard's grin widens and his eyes spark with the kind of violent cruelty that can only ever be contained by a Career (Or someone who really loves violence), "Well let me ask you something. Does this help know how to use almost every weapon ever invented? Is this help sticking with you because they actually like you or just 'cos you're a Career? Is this help trained from birth to kick ass indiscriminately with more skill and speed than a nest of steroid filled Tracker Jackers on caffeine, on acid? 'Cos if not, you'd be safer sticking with Twoface McNutjob over there," he indicates Irre, "Than with that bunch of lovable losers."

_'As you have probably guessed, Zard Frezal is not best known for subtlety.'_

"You're wrong," Essence growls, as above her a speaker system calls for the Tributes from Districts 1, 2 and 3 to make their way to the Waiting room.

"Hey, just my opinion, babe." Zard winks at her, "And, by the way, your little boyfriend in District Eleven, 's good with a spear. Watch out. It's easy to make a blow from one of them look like an accident. I should know, I did it seven times!"

Essence turns, rolling her eyes, and storms out of the building, leaving Zard to turn his attention to Ebony, the attractive mentor of Jules Radcliffe.

ADVERT

_'People of Panem! I, Caesar Flickerman, have great news. Earlier today we sent a guy in with a secret camera in the hope of getting some live feed of the Private Sessions. Unfortunately, we failed and the guy is now having to learn how to live without any lungs and no spine, but not all is lost. You see, they may have found out the plan, but they forgot to destroy the camera. So now we've got a perfectly good camera lying in the dustbin which we can use to film these sessions! Those of you with a premium account, let's take a look! Those of you without, buy one!'_

**IRRE MASSENHAFT:**

"Welcome Mr Massenhaft," Mr Denair leans back in his chair, spinning an ace of spades in between his fingers, as the tall boy enters, "Please begin."

Irre looks around, his cool eyes taking in the numerous training dolls that have been placed in the middle of the room. He grins as he walks over to the weapon rack, and selects a kama, a type of short hand scythe. He turns and looks at the Games Makers, most of whom are preoccupied with a somewhat sumptuous banquet. Denair grins at him, his eyes on the spiky haired boy. Irre taps off the ground, leaping as high into the sky as his considerable strength could carry him whilst shrieking a battle cry. He lands in the middle of the dolls, thrusting his kama up and through the gut of one of them before piercing another's head. He spins on the balls of his feet and decapitates another three, revelling in the falling grain that surrounds him. He gives a roar of laughter as he rushes around the room, ripping dolls to shreds and hurling bits of them at the wall. Hacking at the walls and carpet with a kind of manic ferocity. He stops, hurling the last undamaged doll into the air, his eyes soften. The kama flies from his hands, slamming into the wall opposite, and the doll lands, undamaged, on the ground. Irre picks his kama back up, spinning it in his hand and shoving it back into the weapons rack. He smiles cheerfully at the Games Makers, bowing and walking out.

"What do you think?" Denair turns to his men.

"He left the last doll undamaged." The head judge, Simon Cruelis, states, running a hand through his hair as he contemplates whether he should have won the white or the grey shirt today. "Sloppy."

**ESSENCE CRAYMAKER:**

"Essence Craymaker." Denair smiles cruelly as Essence opens the door, Essence bows and he laughs, "Continue without the formalities, please."

Essence surveys the room. It looks close to a bomb site, there are a few bits of grain in the middle of the room and the carpet is messed up. She gulps, raising a dart and hurling it into the heart of one of the training dummies. She flings a few more darts, piercing various parts of the dolls, every blow hitting their mark. She grins as she inspects the bodies, pulling a sword from the rack and tearing into the dolls. Denair raises an eyebrow. Her swordsmanship is impressively controlled when compared to her team mate, yet she lacks his ferocity. He gives a single clap as she steps away from the corpses and watches as she leaves the room.

Denair spins the ace of spades in his hands, trying to stave off the bout of coughing that seizes him, and watches in disgust as a thin trickle of blood splatters out of his mouth.

"Send the next one in!" Simon roars.

**DISTRICT TWO:**

_'While Essence was having a moral dilemma regarding being a tribute, Demis and Verain were hard at work on the roof, training as though there was no tomorrow.'_

"Nice parry," Demis roars as Jules blocks his claw, he grits his teeth, spinning his other claw in and catching her trident in between both hands. Jules gives a squeak of surprise as she is wrenched off her feet and slammed forcefully into the ground.

"Looks like we'd know who'd win in a fight now, eh!" Demis laughs as he helps the girl to his feet. Jules is shaking slightly, and trips almost as soon as she stands, Demis gives another howl and reaches out, grabbing her wrist. "You're pathetic," he snarls, "Why'd you even bother volunteering?" Jules spits on the ground, flicking her hair and chuckling.

"I'll have you know that I'm a prodigy!"

"Prodigy? Ha! You can't do nothin' by yourself. Wouldn't be surprised at all if I needed to follow you round all hours jus' t' make sure ya don't kill yourself!" Jules giggles and leaps into another attack. Demis laughs and shrugs, lashing out to block her attacks he knocks her off her feet.

"Will the tributes of Districts 1, 2 and 3 kindly make their way to floor 23!" The intercom commanded, and Demis turned away from Jules.

"You're still just a kid," Demis smiles at her, "and you'd do well to remember it."

**DEMIS GREATTOOTH:**

Demis grins, stepping into the private session room and staring around him. His smile turns into a frown as soon as he notices the distinct lack of claws.

"WHAT THE HELL! YOU JERKS EVEN HAVE A KAMA! HOW THE HELL CAN YOU NOT HAVE CLAWS?" Demis roars at the ceiling, before stomping over to the weapons rack and selecting every weapon he can get his hands on. Denair watches with interest as Demis grabs the largest axe he can find, breaking it in two with his bare hands.

"You're acting like a child!" Denair laughs from behind his forcefield, more amused than angry, "Those weapons cost money you know." Demis glares over at him, ripping the head of the axe off and hurling it straight into the wall, leaving it hanging there for all to see before chucking a spear into it. The spear shattered with such force, that the Games Makers were forced to look up.

"Like that?" Demis grins to the now fully alert Games Makers, "That's what'll happen to you lot when I get outta this Arena. That's for not getting' me any claws." Demis grabs another sword, hacking visciously at the dummies before turning and coolly walking out.

"Temper." Denair grins, "He should do pretty well in the Arena as long as that doesn't get the better of him."

**VERAIN LONGCAST:**

"Ms Longcast." Denair grins savagely, twirling the card in his hand as he stares down the table at his fellow judges.

Verain calmly steps into the room, scooping up a selection of knives and grabbing a sword from the rack. She smiles slightly, she'd been waiting outside for about twenty minutes, so she could only imagine that Demis had gone overboard. She turns to the dolls, raising a knife and hurling it at one of their chests. The next knife hits the dummy square on as well and the one after that. She pulls the sword from its sheath, spinning it expertly around her head as she charges into the mass of dolls. Bits fly all over as the girl destroys the dolls, ripping them to pieces with the blade. Denair's smile faltered slightly, this girl was better than he had expected. Verain finished her attack, spinning one of the throwing knives into the chin of an armless doll. Verain turns and, surrounded by destruction, flicks her hair, before storming out.

"Astounding." Simon breaths and Denair stares at him, "No really. The pork is really good."

Denair rolls his eyes and beckons the next tribute in.

**DISTRICT THREE:**

_'A couple of minutes ago, most of the floors in the Tribute Tower were filled with the clanging of weapons and battle cries. Not so, however is the floor of the infamous District Three, who are spending their final few minutes planning, as oppose to fighting.'_

"You need a plan, kid." Jakob groans, flicking into a voice that he rarely has need to use, that of his fathers, he then turned his head to one side, speaking into his recorder, "I have attempted to draw the attention of Ms Ryal to Private Strategy, an important part of any Victor. Judging by the fact that her head is still buried inside her book, I have the ominous feeling that she is not listening. Nonetheless, I will now attempt to draw her attention to her planning in the hope of..."

"I have a plan!" Kate growls insistently.

"Do tell." Jakob steeples his fingers in mock surprise.

"I'll just show them what I do best OK." Kate groans, closing her book.

"Wonderful!" shouts Jakob in mock surprise, "Oh, your planning is simply fabulous! If you make it out of your Private Sessions without killing yourself, be sure to let me know.

"Will the tributes of Districts 1, 2 and 3 kindly make their way to floor 23!"

"And that's my cue!" Jakob pulls himself up and walks away.

**JAKOB HART:**

"Hello Mr Hart," Denair drawls as Hart enters, "The last show were Careers so, as you no doubt know, very impressive. Let's see if you can top that OK."

"I step into the room," Hart monologues, well aware that his tape recorder was taken away from him before he entered, "My heart in my hands, ready to show these over fed Games Makers that I am not to be underestimated." Hart walks into the center of the room, picking a sword from the rack and throwing into the light above him. The light sparks and fizzes and Jakob watches as a large cluster of wires falls out of the roof and the room darkens. He pulls the wires down and sits over them, watching the light sparks as he messes with the wires.

"A minutes passed District Three!" Denair growls, "I hope you didn't come in here just to ruin the fixtures!" Jakob grins, pulling a wire apart and crossing it into another, before grabbing the sword out of the roof and standing over it.

"Gentlemen!" Jakob drawls, his voice matching Denair's to a tee, "Behold!" He lets go of the sword, watching as it falls into the mass of wires. The filament that was in the broken bulb connects to the sword, which carries a mass of electricity from the wires that Hart has assembled into the ceiling. Every light in the room explodes and the cluster of wires jumps with the voltage, before blowing into pieces itself.

"Gentlemen!" Hart grins, his face covered in cuts from bits of broken wire, "The benefits of proper planning!" He turns and leaves. Denair grinds his teeth.

**KATE RYAL:**

Kate steps into the room, looking around at the sight. The walls are slightly charred and the lights hadve obviously been recently replaced, Denair is leaning back in his chair, looking like he's just eaten a whole shed full of lemons and the rest of the Games Makers look little better. Kate looks around, drawing a dagger out of the weapons rack and hurling a few daggers at the dummies. Denair doesn't look impressed, infact he looks positively angrier that she isn't doing anything spectacular. Kate bites her lip, looking around for something more impressive she could do. Something that no one would ever guess she was capable of. She looks around the room for a minute before she notices it, a single wire, hanging down from the lights that was presumably a mechanical fault caused by hasty fitting. Kate gives a giggle, flinging the dagger headlong at the wire and nicking it with the very tip of the blade. Somehow due to a mechanical fault far too complex to explain here, the circuit is completed and every fuse in the lights blows, switching them all off. Kate turns, walking into the wall as she tries to navigate out the room in pitch black.

"I hate District Three..." A Games Maker groans.

"Maybe we should just move rooms." A second suggests.

"Why does everyone keep destroying the lights?" A third muses, as he attempts to remove his fellow fork from his mouth. Denair smiles, his eyes glowing like stars in the pitch.

An unfortunate side effect to too many eye lifts.


	6. Interviews and Excuses

**Here is the news**

_In the early hours of the morning, three days ago, the days celebrations were halted by a terrorist attack in the proximity of the parade. As of such, the parade was canceled before any further damage could be done._

_The President announced today that the Parade has now been rescheduled, and will take place on the day following the Private Sessions. Tributes will enter the Arena the day after. In an interview, the President had this to say:_

"I must apologize profusely for the delay. People of Panem be assured that the perpetrators of this vile act have been found and executed. The Senate will never be upstaged by terrorism!"_  
_

___**And now for something completely different**_

_**It's interview time with Caesar Flickerman**_

_Hello and welcome back. I'm Caesar Flickerman and I'm here in beautiful central Panem talking to the always beloved mentor from District Three, Beetee, in the first of what I hope will be many live interviews._

_'So Beetee. I hear you're back to training this year. Tell me, what do you think of your tributes, Jakob Hart and Kate Ryal?'_

Beetee fidgets slightly, pushing his glasses up and starting to speak.

"There's certainly a lot of potential there Mr Flickerman, a lot of potential indeed. I have to mention though that Kate isn't really the type of Tribute I'm used to training. She's very talented in what she does but... What she does isn't what I do. I'm hopeful for both though."

_'Excellent. Now, about tactics. We all know that you're one for traps and machines. Will Jakob or Kate share such enthusiasm?'_

"I would really rather leave that a secret, Mr Flickerman. I never really feel entirely comfortable expounding upon the tactics of my own tributes. It often ruins the surprise. I can however say that I would be disappointed if he didn't show off at least a little of his skills for trapping while in the Arena."

_'Wise words, O cautious one. So, having been given a sneak peak of the arena this year and, with all that great stuff in the cornucopia. What would you say your tributes should go for first?'_

"Water. Without analysis I can't tell what's wrong with the water in the arena but, biology isn't my specialty so I doubt I would know anyway. I would grab as much water as I can and also put mechanical devices as a high-priority. But that's just me. I would also suggest that they stay out of the bloodbath. As far as I can tell those two aren't the best fighters, and the bloodbath is always a massive risk, even if it's not so fatal as it was back in my days. It's difficult to win on an injury."

_'Sound advice. So, how's the search for sponsors going?'_

"Thanks to District Three's general charisma this year, we've got a few maybes already, but I'm afraid that to say more would ruin the surprise."

_'Well we can't have that, can we? So, finally, any last words for Jakob and Kate?'_

Beetee shrugs, "They work best in a group. Find some friends and stick with them, but know when to break off. Too many tributes have been killed because they didn't know when to get out, and I don't want you to be one of them."

_'Early yesterday morning, we caught up with Kai Keoloha, mentor of District Six, in the process of doing some last minute training with her tributes, Phillip Sutton and Emery Lox:'_

_'Why if it isn't miss Keoloha,' _Caesar calls, making Kai jump and fall off of the beam she is balancing on and fall to the ground, _'Training hard I see._'

Kai grins forcedly and tries to look innocent, as training out of hours is disapproved of, while not illegal. "Um. Yeah. Pleasure to see you again too Caesar. I thought that Phil and Emmy could use the extra training."

_'How do you think they'll do then? Doesn't seem like you've got much hope if your up training at a time like this.'_

"Not at all, Caesar, I've got a fine pair of tributes this year and I'm very pleased with how they're coming along. Emmy is an excellent fighter and Phil is an astounding healer and trapper so, yeah, I'm sure that District Six is going places this year!"

_'Excellent! Now, you've been in the arena before and we all know what you're capable of. Do you have any advice for your tributes and do you think they'll follow it?'_

"When I was in the Games I stuck with my allies until the Final Eight and I advise them to do so as well. When you stick together, you've always got someone to back you up and watch out for you. It can be a real strain on the nerves though. I mean, watching those Careers kill my team mates, that was almost too much. If they are going to follow my advice or not, is completely up to them, they're kids after all, so I can't say what they'll do!"

_'There were a lot of impressive items in the cornucopia this year, which one would you have recommended your tribute go for?'_

"If I were there with them I would tell Emery to go for the daggers, since they are her best weapon, while Philip should go for a backpack of some sort. That way they have most of the supplies they need to get through the coming days or weeks."  
_Sound advice as always Kai._

_'So, how is the search for sponsors going, any buyers? What about gifts can your tribute be expecting a gift anytime soon?'_

"Actually, it's been surprisingly easy getting sponsors to help. Ever since the Games began sponsors have been running each other over for the whole tag team thing. As for your other question, I cannot answer that without giving it away. All I can tell you is that I'm positive one of my tributes will make it, if not both."

_'Finally any other messages you want to give to your tribute?' _

"Well, they can't exactly hear me, now can they? But if they could, I wish them the best of luck and I hope they know that I, along with the whole of District 6, will be rooting for them."

_'And what exploitation of previous winners wouldn't be complete without a interview with the man mountain of Sevdad Kerin, the second mentor to be joining us in the studio to offer advice and criticism? The answer is of course all of them, but we'll interview him anyway!'_

_'So it's good to see you again I hear the tributes last year weren't so lucky,_  
_are you hopeful this year?'_

"I am not hopeful, one of them maybe will make it to the final eight. But I am not hopeful."

_'You've been in the arena before, what were your tactics, is your tribute going  
to follow them?'_

"My tactic, as you know, was killing everyone that was in my way. I believe that I have become pretty famous for that one time when I kicked that guy into the quicksand and he drowned. This will not work for any of this years district 8 tributes. They are to small. So I'd suggest hiding and waiting or something like that."

_'There were a lot of impressive items in the cornucopia this year, which one  
would you have recommended your tribute go for?'_

"Georia is a tribute with many surprises, but she is not so used to the nature. So food, much food. Alew, I don't know, maybe he'll be OK if he stays on the fringes of the cornucopia, but it's not likely. I'd say that he should just run."

_'How is the search for sponsors going, can your tribute be expecting a gift  
anytime soon?'_

"Both my tributes have many surprises, hopefully the sponsors see them.'  
_  
'Finally any other messages you want to give to your tribute?'_

"Don't get hopeful! Kids like you die when they're hopeful! Stay alert, stay scared and stay away from anything that looks at all suspicious! That's all I have to say on that matter."

_Next week we'll be entering the private sessions. So be ready. At the moment the alliances are as follows:_

_**The Careers: **_Head: Demis.

Members: Irre Massenhaft, Verain Longcast, Demis, Jules Radcliffe, Blake Kaitz, Quentin Rapido(?)

_**Team One: **_Head: Kayton Roys

Members: Trent Flee, Hype Tarick(?), Georia Hanel, Kayton Roys (?)

_**Team Two: **_Head: Emery Lox

Members: Emery Lox, Phillip Sutton, Teagan Cooper (?)

_**Team Three: **_Head: Jakob Hart

Members: Kate Ryal, Jakob Hart

_**Team Four: **_Head: Lenox Carter

Members: Lenox Carter, Scratch Standards, Essence Craymaker

_**Spare Tributes:**_ Pyro, Zus Ryaov, Alylla Stone, April Connolly, Arixo Varsity, Alew Ferove

_And now we will return to the actual story!_


	7. Private Sessions part 2

_**Welcome back, I'm Claudius Templesmith, and this is...**_

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games!**

**District Four:**

_We all know that District Four is a firm favorite this year, having a child prodigy on one side and a brainy little ragamuffin on the other. Question is, what were they doing just before the Games?_

"YOU IDIOT!" Jules screeches, spinning around and flinging her trident at the shaggy haired mentor who had been trying to chat up her mentor. She marches over to the bench and sits down in a huff.

"Shomething wrong?" Blake asks her, wrapping a thin arm around her to comfort the girl. Jules mumbles something and Blake smiles reassuringly. "Pardon?" Jules mumbles again. Blake leans closer to her to listen. He blinks as a foot comes up, slamming into his stomach and sending him flying back hard into the forcefield, which electrocutes him and slams him into the ground. Ebony Raven, the mentor of District Four, gives a harsh laugh, turning to glare at Zard, who joins in hesitantly.

"THERE!" Jules roars, leaping to her feet, "DOES THAT LOOK WEAK TO YOU? HUH? HUH?" Blake groans, pulling himself shakily to his feet and clicking his jaw back into place.

"No, I suppose not." He growls curtly, trotting away and hurrying down the stairs. Jules gives another 'hmph' and follows him, as the speakers above them announce that they should make their way to floor 23.

"How precious," Ebony sneers, "I think my little Jules is in love." Zard groans.

"Girls of her age always are..." he gives a gulp as Ebony's fist impacts with his jaw, before spinning under her next attack. Zard grins up at her, winking, and suddenly his hand is filled with one of the largest, most expensive looking spears that anyone has ever seen. Ebony gasps.

"Where the hell did that come from?"

"Cloak. What about that trident?"

"Same." There is an awkward pause, "Just don't be late for the meeting, OK." Ebony turns and walks away and Zard grins at her and waves cheerily before turning and disappearing down the stairs.

**BLAKE KAITZ:**

"Ah, Mr Kaitz. You're late." Denair growls softly as the tall teen swaggers in. Blake tuts and flicks his hair.

"So." He grins widely, his stammer and lisp both evaporating into the air. Denair raises one eyebrow.

"That's quite a skill." Blake tuts again, picking up a doll, tying a rope around its neck and flinging the doll over a rafter. He grins, sending a few quick arrows through the things chest.

"No. This is a skill." Blake spins on his heels, sending another dozen arrows into the doll. He grins, stopping to admire his reflection in the arrowhead, before pulling a javelin from the weapons rack and leaping forward, flinging it straight through the dummy with a flick of his wrist and a little flourish. Blake grabs the dummy, jabbing at every vital spot on the dummy with enough skill and dexterity to make it look like an art form. Each jerk of the dummy is preempted, each blow carefully planned. Blake watches as the dummy tumbles to the floor, lying in a disheveled heap, before turning to the Game Makers and stomping out.

"He made that look like an art form. Or at least a Picasso." Simon smiles, a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Killing is never an art." Denair retorts, "That boy hasn't learnt that yet."

**JULES RADCLIFFE:**

Jules smiles brightly at the frowning faces of the Games Makers as she enters, not sensing the hatred that each one feels for her. She steps into the middle of the room, picking a trident off of the rack as she walks. Her smile hardens as she enters the room, turning to face the dummies that have now been lined up against the wall.

"Just imagine them." She whispers to herself. "Just imagine." Jules gulps, readies herself and charges towards one of the dummies, bringing her trident up and into its gut. The dummy falls back, legs buckling and arms splaying out, as the trident sinks into it, spilling grain onto the carpet. Jules rips her trident upwards, splitting the dummy into three and sending the grains splashing out in a great wave.

"You think I'm weak, huh, Demis? I'll show you weak!" She spins her trident round into the crotch of one of the dummies, "Think I need comforting, huh? Think I need protecting?" Jules howls at the sky, imitating the big Career from District Two exactly, before stabbing 'Demis' in the chest again and again. Jules rips the dummy to pieces, leaving it a tattered mass of cloth and grain. Jules turns, a grin etched on her face and stomps out of the room.

"Well. That was subtle." Simon quips sarcastically.

"Those Careers are freaking Psychos!" One of the Games Makers, a wide eyed little boy who sat next to Denair, squeaks happily, rubbing a dirty old sock for comfort.

**District Five:**

_So, that's the Careers out the way (sorry Quentin, you don't count)now we travel onwards to the less powerful Districts. Despite their distinct lack of Careers (Quentin still doesn't count), these Districts still have a thing or two up their sleeves. So lets get right on to District Five._

"I keep telling you ****, I don't need your **** help!" Zus laughs in his thick accent, his words almost indistinguishable as he struts away from the hunch backed seventeen year old.

"You'll regret that!" Quentin shouts after him, "You'll regret that you didn't trust me!"

"Trust you, ****** ******?" Zus rounds on Quentin, pinning him to the wall, "I'd rather trust **** Malbrey Chack, that blind chick who ******* kicked me, to find a needle in a ****** haystack!" Quentin roars, pinning the other boy to the wall as Zus goes to pass him. In the corner of the corridor, Teagan squeaks and steps away from the two. Everyone had already seen that Quentin was a real jerk, and Zus didn't seem too nice either. Not with that potty mouth of his.

"Don't you dare call me weak!" Quentin screams, spitting in Zus face as he hollers, "No one ever calls me weak! Not you! Not Cooper! Not no one!" Zus grins, brushing spit off of his collar and pushing Quentin back.

"You crazy *******." Zus laughs, "Do you really think I care 'bout you at all." He turns and marches away, "You're gonna die out there, *****. An' when you do, I'll be there. I'm out to win this, *****, an' you ain't gonna stop me!" Zus walks away as quickly as he can and Quentin growls, turning to Teagan and slapping her across the face. Teagan gives a squeak, turning on Quentin and smacking his hand away indignantly. Quentin stares at the small girl, a look of surprise on his face, she had never done this before. Teagan gives turns and flounces off down the hall, leaving the older boy standing there, shocked. Quentin clenches his fists.

"That girl is so dead." he roars, before turning and following Zus down the hall to the waiting room.

**QUENTIN RAPIDO:**

"Please show us what you can do, Mr Rapido." Quentin steps into the room and is immediately taken aback by the speaker. A mere twelve year old, Games Maker Connor Flipseye stares out at him from over the top of the table. Denair grins at Quentin, nodding for him to start. Quentin grabs a mace from off the wall, spinning into a sort of mad frenzy as he rushes towards the dummy, aiming for its ugly cloth head. He swings the mace, shattering the things crotch and gaining an 'oooh' of approval from the Games Makers. Quentin growls, clumsily flailing his mace upwards, he breaks the dummy's skull open, depositing it on the floor. He then replaces his mace and pulls out a sword and spear. He spins the sword in one hand and pulls the spear back in his other. Then, after removing the spear from his t-shirt and retrieving the sword from the other side of the room, he charges the dummy. Pinning it to the ground with his spear, he relentlessly hacks at the thing until his time has long since run out, and security is called to throw him out of the room.

"That boy has... absolutely no... talent." Viridis groans from the end of the table.

"A twelve year old could have done better!" Simon sniffs. Denair looks down at Connor and smiles.

"A twelve year old probably will." He laughs.

**TEAGAN COOPER:**

Teagan gulps as she steps into the room, trying desperately not to shake too much. She takes a few seconds to look over the Games Makers. This year they have been joined by the escorts, Teagan notices the escort of District Five, a pale stuttering man by the name of Ford Crassus. She walks into the middle of the room, clutching a bow in her hand, somewhat taken aback by the eyes of Mr Denair, who is watching her intently. She smiles at him, drawing back the string of her bow and letting fly an arrow, straight into the light. It wasn't what she was intending to do, Teagan thinks, but it would work. She smiles, sending another three arrows into the wall while the Games Makers are distracted. The arrows hit into the sides of the dummy, pulling it off of its hook and slamming it into the wall. There is a distinct cracking sound and the Games Makers look back. To see that the arrows are buried up to an inch into the wall.

"That's some impressive shooting." the Escort of District Six, Melissa, chirps.

"I'm afraid not." Denair smiles, spinning the ace in his fingers as he leans back in his chair, "A simple mind trick. The arrows are weakened before firing so that they break when they hit the wall. He gets up, walking into the room as the forcefield is deactivated and picking an arrow out. "As you can see, the dummy is clearly resting on another and against the wall. An ingenious trick, no doubt, but not astounding archery."

"Ha. I've seen better tricks from a child's magician." Simon laughed, obviously enjoying his job of insulting every tribute who he saw.

**District Six:**

_Since Districts One to Five are currently in their Private Sessions, let's go right over to District Six, to see how our dear Kai's rigorous training sessions are going._

"Come on, come on! Work those knees! Just fifteen more laps to go!" Kai hollers, rushing around the track that has been set up on District Six's floor.

"For God's sake man!" Phillip screams, panting for oxygen as he falls behind, "I'm a doctor, not a champion athlete!" Kai laughs, shouting something ridiculous like 'you'll be both when I'm finished with ya!'. She laughs, vaulting over the bed in order to catch up with Emery, who is in the lead. She falls, slamming her chin into the ground...

_Clumsiness. A trait that Kai Keoloha has become famous for._

"Right, time to finish up I think!" Kai grins, suddenly jumping to her feet and laughing heartily.

"But you just said..." Phillip begins, flabbergasted.

"Screw it."

"What about the..."

"I believe I said 'screw it', Mr Sutton!" Kai grins, before turning and stomping into the middle of the room. "Now, Private Sessions. Tricky."

"I know." Emery groans, depressed, "I still have no idea what I'm gonna do."

"May I suggest writing, 'Screw the Careers' on the wall in darts? It worked for me!"

"I don't think we'll be doing that." Emery sighs, looking at Phillip, "It's against the rules."

"Rules be damned!" Kai shouts, with such vigour and gravitas that it makes everyone jump, "I played dirty and so should you!"

"That catchphrase seems to be coming along nicely..." A voice says from the doorway. Kai and her two tributes spin around, a pair of darts falling into the woman's hands. A short, wide mouthed man in horn rimmed glasses steps into the room, followed by taller, somewhat frazzled looking woman, who looks more like the first man's mentor than another Career. Kai grins at them, greeting the two with a bow.

"Wow." The man laughs, "Formality from Kai? Truly this is an honour!" Kai grins, kicking him in the chest and stumbling back as he blocks the blow.

"Now now, Kai. They want to interview us down on ground level. Just thought you'd like to come."

"I've been interviewed."

"Fine." The other woman laughs, her mouth suddenly overflowing with words, "Guess you'll have to miss the meeting." Both figures step out the door, followed by Phillip and Emery. Kai just remains standing there.

"Meeting?" Kai muses.

**PHILLIP SUTTON:**

Phillip drags himself into the room, legs still sore from running. He groans as he stares at the Games Makers. Trapping. That's what I'm really good at, he thinks. He sits, gathering a pile of sticks off of the ground, along with a collection of rope and a small, scalpel-like, knife. Phillip sits, cutting a few notches in the wood, before slipping the knife into said notch and beginning to wrap rope into the others. He smiles, stacking the wood into an odd kind of prism, wrapping yet more rope into it and slipping another knife into the bottom of the prism. He then steps back, raising a bow and slipping an arrow into it. He breathes deeply, trying not to shake as he lines up the bow. He fires, almost missing the lower of the two knives. The knife flips around, caught by the arrow, cutting through a rope and jerking the entire prism upwards. The knife flies forwards, speeding straight towards the head of Games Maker Connor Flipseye. Flipseye jumps impulsively under the table as the forcefield blocks the knife, rebounding it into the trap and destroying it. The other Games Makers laugh at Connor, who bristles, and turns away from the other Games Makers.

"That is my true power." Peter smiles slightly, almost whispering as he walks out, "Trapping is what makes me strong."

"Strong? I would say more insufferable." Simon smiles, making his quip as soon as the boy has exited.

**EMERY LOX:**

Emery steps into the room, confident that she knows what she's doing. Denair raises an eyebrow at her costume, a black jumpsuit and mask that covers all except for her eyes. Emery nods to him, pulling a knife from the weapons rack and running towards the nearest dummy. She grins under her mask, savagely hacking across the dummy's jugular, sending grain splashing onto the ground. She then spins back, hacking once again at the jugular of the dummy but missing and instead slashing it across the face. Her foot comes round, in an almost balletic motion, hammering into the gut of the dummy as her knife arcs up into its chin. She spins, slashing a criss cross of patterns into its chest and jabbing the knife into its face.

"It's like a dance." Connor grins, rubbing his dirty old sock against his face as he watches.

"Well, sure. If she's dancing a waltz to 'La Cucaracha'." Simon groans, burying his head in his hands.

Emery throws the knife high in the air, watching as it arches over the top of the dummy, cutting the rope and dropping it to the floor. She darts over the top of the falling dummy, catching the blade in mid-air before flinging it over her shoulder into the heart of another dummy. She almost face palms. That was meant to hit the dummy I just attacked, she thought, but that's good too I suppose.

"Well, that made me mildly less sick than this dinner," Simon groans, tipping the dinner on the floor, "Good job."

**Random Exposition:**

_'Well, since the Private Sessions are on at the moment, and it turns out our camera doesn't have sound. Let's get down to business.' _Caesar Flickerman bellows, '_I'm down here with little miss sunshine herself, Eutrepe Book, daughter of the President.'_

Eutrepe rolls her eyes and pulls a face at the screen.

_'So, Miss Book, having a nice time touring the Tributes tower with Mommy, Daddy and the ever creepy Flavius Thorn?'_

"No."

_'OK... Made any new friends down here?' _Eutrepe shakes her head and sticks out her tongue.

_'Err... Got anyone you want to win?'_

"Well, actually I do, this guy from District..." Eutrepe is unable to finish her sentence, as a both Sevdad Kerin, and Linkous Lamont, the short mentor who had been talking to Kai earlier, cut across her path. Caesar, knowing a lost cause when he sees one, disappears from the scene.

"HEY!" Eutrepe shouts to the men, "YOU MESSED UP MY INTERVIEW!"

"Bite me." Sevdad groans, a rare smile playing across his face.

"Yeah. I wouldn't myself," Linkous grins widely, showing off a large array of teeth "Might break your teeth!" Eutrepe gives a sarcastic laugh. Linkous had taken up the job of comedian after his time in the arena and he was normally pretty funny. 'He must be distracted at the moment', Eutrepe thinks.

"Yeah well..." She opens her mouth to speak again, but is immediately cut across by the frazzled looking victor, Kyte Luch, who enters the room along with Zard.

"Ah! There you are Link, Sev! I did wonder how long it would take for you to get down here. Didn't I Zard? I said 'I wonder if Good Old Linky will be OK with Sev. He's awful distracted at the moment and Sev's a good hider.' I said. And then I thought, 'No, Linky never let us down in the past, he'll be fine! Silly me for doubting him' But then Zard said..."

"Shut up." Sevdad groans, never having been a fan of chatter.

"Well. Manners, Sev. I don't know Zard, some people! Anyway..."

"HEY!" Eutrepe shouted, "I WAS SPEAKING OVER HERE!"

"Well." Kyte begins again, noticing Eutrepe for the first time, "Didn't your mother tell you not to interrupt others?" Eutrepe screams in frustration, stomping off down the halls.

"That's got her out the way." Zard grins, "Now. Onto the plan..."

_Ooh. Looks like some people haven't noticed the hidden cameras yet. We'll have another update real soon, so let us know what you think!_


	8. Private Sessions part 3

A/N: Sorry about the delay folks. We'll now return you to your program.

**It's...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games!**

**District Seven:**

"Mr. Pyro! Mr. Pyro! Get back here!" The stylist of District Seven, Violina Rasdemglosdentajiyulsgs, screeches as she chases the large man down the corridor, reaching up to her head in a desperate attempt to keep her wig on. "How can I fit you for a costume if you will not keep still?"

"Here's an idea!" Pyro roars over his shoulder, "Don't!" He gives a laugh, turning, his eyes widen as he slams straight into Hamlet Viridis, who is turning the corner, and goes down in a flurry of ginger hair and incomprehensible curses. Seeing the disturbance, the nearby Kayton Roys turns from where she is being fitted for her costume and runs over to the door, watching as Viridis pulls himself to his feet.

"What in the devil's blazes do you think you are doing, malicious cretin!" Viridis roars, slapping the lanky teen over the head with a book, before calmly dabbing out the fire that Pyro had set on him.

"Ah, Ms Roys, there you are!" Viridis shouts, hurting Kayton's ears with his sheer volume. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"Err, Hi." Kayton smiles, trying to act politely as she reaches out to shake Viridis' hand. "Err... You said you..." She blushes, she'd never really been any good at talking to important people like Mr Viridis, not even when that important person was Mrs Liala Cresten, wife of the mayor. Her mother.

"Ah, yes. Seems that the annual statement from the Mayor's family came in to day. For some amazing reason, which I cannot fathom but I assume is damned good, the son of the Mayor said something about you in particular. Some sort of good luck speech or something." Kayton grins, punching the air, Laken hadn't forgotten her.

"Mmm, gossip." Pyro grins, putting on an accent that was so bad only he could know who it was supposed to be and sniffing the air, "Smells juicy!"

"I am assured that Mr Cresten's intentions are, err, completely honourable and not in anyway romantically inclined." Viridis shrugs, "But he asked that this be given to you." The man stretches out a long, spidery hand, opening it to reveal a note, a newspaper clipping and a bead from her choker necklace. She smiles, gripping the objects and scooping them into her hand.

"I do hope that you're not planning on wearing something quite so revealing for your interview," Viridis comments, before turning and walking out. Kayton blushes, remembering that she had been in the middle of costume fitting, and storms back over to Violina

**ASH 'PYRO' VERNON:**

"Ash Vernon?" Simon asks as the teen enters, hunched and grinning. Ash says nothing, walking calmly into the center of the room and pulling a rope from off of the weapons rack. He turns, standing to his feet and marching over to the dummies, surveying them with the kind of gaze one would expect to find on a old woman, doing her weekly shopping. Ash smiles, staring up and down each dummy in turn, before selecting a particularly 'plump' one and dragging it into the center of the room. He grins up at the Games Makers, stroking an imaginary beard as he ties down the dummy.

"Behold," Pyro roars, slipping into what could almost be mistaken for a bad impersonation, but sounds too similar to his original voice to be one, "The heroine of our picture! Tied to the tracks, a train's on its way! Superman's stuck in traffic! So what d'ya do?" He spins theatrically, wrenching two daggers off the weapons rack and slamming them together. A spark flies as the daggers hit, falling onto the dummy and somehow setting the entire thing ablaze in under a minute. Simon raises an eyebrow and steps back, worried that the ash from the fire will ruin his shirt.

"And so, fire saves the day again! The train can now easily go on its way, without fear of getting untracked by distressed damsels." He gives a low bow, "Oh and, by the way. Not Ash. PYRO!" Ash turns and stomps out, leaving the judges to ponder what he's just said.

"That kid might actually be pretty interesting." Denair grins.

**KAYTON ROYS:**

"Hello, Ms Roys, would you like to come in." Simon says, watching as Kayton walks into the room and stands in the middle, staring at them. "Err... Ms Roys. Are you OK?" Kayton smiles wistfully, staring down at the newspaper clipping that she has somehow been allowed to bring in. "Ms Roys? You have to do something you know? You've already been standing there for..." Kayton leaps to her feet even as he speaks, grabbing an axe and charging straight at Mr Denair. She charges forwards, swinging her axe straight at Denair's head, before running straight into the force field. Kayton gives a scream of surprise (as she hadn't been able to notice the field) and then pulls herself back to her feet.

"YOU KILLED HIM!" Kayton roars, flinging herself again at the invisible wall. "YOU KILLED HIM! YOU'RE THE REASON HE'S DEAD!" She screams, rushing into the shimmering barrier. Simon and most of the other Games Makers shiver, pulling away from Kayton.

"Did... the... forcefield... just... shake?" Pizzo gasps. The newspaper flutters to the ground and one of the Games Makers leans over to read it:

"Local man, Huron Roys, dead?" Thebes mutters.

"YOU. KILLED. MY. FATHER!" Kayton roars, her hair a ragged mess, her clothes charred.

"No Kayton, I am your father." Connor grins, before looking around at his fellows bemused faces, "What? I watch a lot of classical movies. Security!"

Denair watches with interest as Kayton is dragged away.

"She's trouble." He mutters.

"She's dead." Connor replies fingering a dagger in his pocket as he contemplates the kill.

**District Eight:**

"And- and -and then, Zus turned and he pinned this guy to the wall! And this guy was, like, all swearing and spitting and stuff. And Zus said..."

"Will you just shut up about Zus Ryaov? He hasn't won this Hunger Games yet you know!" April, the girl from District Ten, bristles and turns away from the twelve year old.

"HEY!" Alew shouts, sitting up from where he had been lazily resting. "Who says Zus can't? He's the best guy in these Games!"

"What?" April grins, flicking her hair out of her eyes as she fingers the wooden arrow that she had been training with. She gets to her feet, smacking the small boy on the head with the palm of her hand and knocking him off of his chair, "So a girl can't win, eh?"

"I didn't say that!" Alew complains, pulling himself up onto his feet and brushing dirt off of him, "I didn't say that girls were no good or anything. I just said that Zus'll win."

"That means that you're going to die." April smiles matter-o-factly, "You wanna die, eh, shorty?" Alew stares at her for a minute and, over in the corner, Georia steps forward, wanting to do something for the small boy. The boy stares at April, shaking slightly and gulping. Georia walks up behind him and lays her hands on his shoulders, so gently that it barely even makes him flinch. He gives another small gulp, but doesn't brush her off. Georia smiles gently. Barely no one could stand having Georia so much as brush past them. For her, it was a refreshing change. April raises an eyebrow and gives a short laugh.

"Don't try to die to quick." April grins, pointing at Alew, "I'll be aiming for your little boyfriend!" Georia rolls her eyes and leads Alew out, muttering to him.

"Don't worry." Georia smiles, "I'll try to help." Alew turns, pulling slightly on Georia's arm as he points at April.

"And I am gonna die out there! I know that! But I want Zus to win!"

_'Ah how touching. (Thought I'd gone home for lunch, didn't you!)'_

Alew turns back to Georia, "Thanks Lis'." He grins, brushing past the girl as he runs off, not even realising, in his excitement, that the girl is not his sister.

_'Everyone say it with me now... AWWWWWW!'_

**ALEW FEROVE:**

"I need a glass of water." Simon groans, clapping his hands together and watching as an Avox scurries in, "I've got a feeling that I'm not going to like this next 'act'." He smiles, sitting up slightly and trying to look interested as the tiny twelve year old boy enters. Alew smiles up at the Games Makers, looking around for the largest most impressive looking weapon. After a couple of seconds, he sees it. It isn't hard to spot. A gigantic hammer lying up against the wall is enough to give anyone ideas of greatness. He steps up to it and tries to pull it from the weapon cabinet, stepping sharply back as it crashes to the floor, catching an unsuspecting dummy on its head and crushing it into so much sawdust. Alew steps back.

"Maybe not..." He pulls out, instead, a sling, flicking the elasticated cloth around hit hand and placing a smooth round stone in it. He turns, firing at a dummy who, being significantly more fortunate than his last victim, takes it on the chin and falls over backwards. Alew steps over it, loading a few more stones, which he sends flying into the dummies head. He runs out the door, trotting away with a mad vigour, not wanting to stay in this horrifying room full of weapons and the smell of burning wood.

"Not great." Simon groans, sipping his water, "Better than I expected."

**GEORIA HANEL:**

"Ms Hanel, I presume," Denair steeples his fingers, staring at the rather conspicuous girl who stands in the middle of the room. "Hopefully you can show us something..." he taps his lucky ace of spades for luck, "Interesting."

Georia nods, looking around the room for a moment, just like all of the other tributes before her. She needed something distracting, she though, something that would allow her to show her talents. Georia smiles slyly, lifting a heavy spear from the rack and hurling it, headlong, at the light. It is a clumsy throw and it only serves to scratch the bulb, but it none the less draws the eye of the Game Makers, along with several indignant cries about the light, and one sigh of sympathy for the poor thing.

When they look back Georia has vanished.

Disappeared completely from where she has been. The Game Makers stare around, notably impressed.

"She's behind that dummy." Denair groans, almost bored as he points her out, "I can smell her." He smiles as Georia steps out from behind a dummy, "Nice try though, would have had me too if I weren't so observant." He watches as Georia is escorted out.

"I don't think District 8 is of a very high standard this year." Connor grins.

**District Nine:**

"This is of the utmost ****** importance, I tell you! Ut-******-most!"

"What's the big deal Zus," Arixo groans, still hacking at the practice doll in the corner, "At least one of us is going home in a few days anyway, you can write all you want to your friends when you see them again."

"More than one?" Alylla purrs mockingly, "Someone's got a plan."

"Sure. I figure if we can keep a fight going for about a day without anyone dying, whole thing gets called off and the participants win."

_'This is, may I remind viewers, a real rule. Any group to survive a eight hour fight against all odds, shall be declared a victor regardless of how far into the games we are. However, since it has never come into play, you can forgive young Alylla for not knowing!'_

"Heh." Alylla spits, punching another dummy noisily across the room and caving in its head.

"Quiet!" Zus roars, "This letter home must be perfect! We only get one **** letter home, an' I want it to be ******* perfect for when Malbrey ******* reads it!"

"She's blind, dumbass." Alylla grins, and Zus jumps to his feet with an indignant roar, rushing towards, her like a speeding locomotive. She grins, turning towards him with an athleticism unbeknown to most her size, and charges headlong at him. Arixo smiles, stepping away from the action, and is about to make some sort of comment, when both runners collapse backwards.

"How're my favorite hot heads, eh?" Linkous, District Nine's mentor, grins down at them, "Not too down, tough guy?" He smiles at Alylla, having successfully tied both her and Zus's arms behind their backs, "And you, Zus? All those District Nine fumes going to your head?" He turns, somehow managing to drag the two tributes, both of whom are twice his size and half his age, across the cafeteria floor and to the door in record time.

"Letter writing's later," Linkous grins as he turns to Arixo, "Time you got back to your room, little miss stabby. We've got Private Sessions to do!"

**ZUS RYAOV:**

Zus Ryaov, the man who apparently needs no introduction, pulls the door and steps into the room. He takes a look around even as Denair introduces him. Chubby Games Makers, skinny dummies, a plethora of weapons. He grins wildly, lifting a spear from the rack. Not as big as he would have liked but he'd make do. He then grabs a bow from the shelf next to it, and picks out another spear. Pulling the bowstring back, he grits his teeth and, with the application of slightly, more force, the bow easily breaks in two. Next, ripping the head off the first spear, he bends it slightly, glad that it is made of a springy wood, rather than the more expensive hard stuff. The cheap ******* ('_Sorry folks, even Zus's thoughts need censoring!')_ He ties the bowstring round the spear, pulling it back and slipping in the spear. He winces from the pressure, and then releases the string. The spear speeds forwards, twisting in the air due to its own weight, before burying itself deep in a dummy, knocking it from its perch. Zus turns, swearing under his breath.

"Should have used a real ******* arrow."

"Lousy showoff." Connor mutters.

**ALYLLA STONE:**

_'In complete contrast to Zus, Alylla doesn't seem to have any battle strategy at all, and she's thrilled to death about it!'_

Down in the room, Alylla flings herself at the largest of the dummies, gleefully ripping the head off of it and thrusting it to the floor. She grins, ripping the now rather weathered daggers off of the weapons rack and plunging it into another dolls body. She grins, slashing across the next.

"Whoo!" Alylla roars, "Who's the greatest? Who's the best? Who's gonna win this?" She glares over at Denair as he throws his head back and laughs coldly.

"Everyone's got winning in their head here darling. You'd be a fool if you didn't." Alylla storms up to him.

"Are you saying something old man?" Alylla spits, "Think you're so big behind your stupid force field! Come on then!"

"What?" Denair raises an eyebrow.

"Come out an' fight me!" Denair grins forcedly, sweating slightly.

"No."

"What?"

"It's against the rules." Denair licks his lips, stepping to his feet.

"COWARD!" Denair roars, dropping the forcefield in an instant and surging towards her. Alylla raises her dagger, spinning it around her head and slamming it into Denair's side. Denair roars and coughs up blood, twisting his foot around and connecting with Alylla's side. Alylla groans, falling back and watches as Denair brings his fist up. She lashes out, knocking the doll over, onto him and watching as he blocks it, deflecting it into her and sending her reeling. Another blow of his palm to her jaw rattles a few teeth and causes her grip on her daggers to loosen. Another well choreographed blow in the stomach causes the daggers to nearly fall from her hands, as Alylla falls forwards, spittle flying from her mouth as Denair kicks her across the room. Denair grabs her daggers, advancing on her with calculated steps, weighing up the best way to kill her. The time was up but he doesn't care. He lifts her up the wall by her throat, laughing.

"I'm going to..." He collapses, coughing up blood again as a stun dart lands in him, knocking him out instantly. Alylla falls to the ground, equally unconscious.

"I think we all know what's happened here." Simon sneers, looking around at the stunned Games Makers. "Ms Stone knocked herself out when a doll fell on her. Nothing too strange or unheard of."

"We'll give her a good score or something," Pizzo grins, "No one'll complain."

"Mr Denair?" Connor whimpers, rubbing the dirty old sock nervously against his face.

"Mr Denair... Feels tired and has retired to his room." Felix nods.

"Of course." Augusta agrees, nodding to the guards to carry the two out.

"Showing wonderful respect," Mellisa concludes, "We ever loving lords of the Districts have had Alylla moved to her room, and had the latest Capitol medicine sent to her in the hope that she recovers from such clumsiness." Thebes groans, burying his head in his hands. This couldn't be happening. Not to any girl. Denair was mad, he thought. Young April would have to be clever to stay alive against these tributes.

"Don't worry," Hamlet smiles, patting Thebes on the back, "Your tributes are next up. It'll all be over soon." Thebes nods, letting Hamlet escort him out to the water cooler.


	9. Private Sessions part 4

**Now for another thrilling installment of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games!**

**District Ten:**

"There you are..." Trent Flee smiles as he steps into the room, raising a hand in greeting to April, who growls at him.

"Go away." The girl sniffs, her voice flat and controlled, "I don't need you in here."

"They say... that if... a goat gets separated... from the herd... that goat is as good... as dead."

"Yeah?" April laughs harshly, "Well I don't need to worry 'bout no goats! I'm a lone wolf!"

"I heard you last night..." Trent smiles, taking a step towards the girl and laying a hand on her shoulder, "... do you always cry like that?" April's eyes widen and she spins around, pinning him to the wall.

"That's none of your business!" April growls.

"Fine..." Trent shrugs, seeming not to notice that April's hand is at his throat. "Sometimes it... helps... to talk about it..."

"Hmph." April tosses her head, turning away from Trent "You can't help me find my parents! So leave me alone!"

"OK, let's talk about family..." Trent mutters, "I have three siblings... They're a real pain... Two parents... Always making me work... Try to put me through school... Then make me work on some chick's farm... You think you got problems?... Wish I was an orphan sometimes... Less work..." He turns and walks away, leaving April wondering what on earth he was talking about.

**TRENT FLEE:**

"Good morning..." Trent Flee smiles as he steps into the room, mumbling into his hand, "Trent Flee... I am not the best speaker... but I'll try to take you through what I'm doing... in the name of fair play..." Simon groans, acts like this were usually horrible. Trent kneels on the floor, grabbing the coils of rope on the wall along with a selection of poisonous bugs from the nearby poisonous bug pens. He twists the ropes, coiling it into an intricate spiral while whispering something into his messy hair. He places the bugs on the ropes, watching as they crawl over each other and the ropes. Trent grins down at the bugs, licking his lips as he watches them. He spins the rope around them, flicking it in the way of escaping bugs as they crawl around. He then gets up, pulling the rope tightly and standing back.

"Now..." Trent whispers, pointing at the ropes. The Games Makers look down at the ropes, all the non-poisonous bugs have been trapped inside the very center of the maze of ropes and strings, whilst the more poisonous ones have been pushed outside the ropes.

"See..." Trent gives a worried smile, his mouth twitching slightly. He turns and leaves, eyes swiveling from one Games Maker to the next. He turns and leaves and Connor glares after him.

"I hate that boy." Connor groans, "He's not funny at all."

**APRIL CONNOLLY:**

April smiles to herself as she stands in the middle of the room, a spear in one hand and a bow in the other. This was what her parents must have felt like, standing here in the middle of the room, watching the Game Maker, Thebes Horrors. He's sweating like a pig and stares pleadingly at her, willing her not to do anything too stupid or over the top. She nods, breaking the top off of the arrow, causing Games Maker Pizzo (who had bought the spears from the personal collection of Zard Frezal) to wince. She then replaces it with the spearhead, causing the arrow to look rather bulbous and mutated. She smiles, fitting the arrow into the bow and firing it straight at the closest of the dummies. The spear head, being made for a rather larger instrument, broke off of the arrow almost at once. The spearhead was sent spiraling through the air, totally uncontrolled and horrifyingly deadly. The spike jams into the dummies shoulder, sticking out at an awkward angle before tumbling down, ripping the shoulder open and sending grain clattering to the ground.

"Impressive," Simon smiles, noting something down in his notebook.

Thebes winces, she's overdoing it. Now she'd be dead within the first night. Thebes knows, knows as he watches as her walk away. Getting a good score isn't always a good thing.

**District Eleven:**

"What on earth do you think your doing?" Lenox groans, the letter to home she has just written clutched in her hand as she stares at Scratch Standards. The older boy grins up at her, ropes clasped in his spindly hands.

"I have to finish!" Scratch shouts sounding slightly frazzled as he knits the ropes together, "Got to finish! Have to finish! Got to finish!" He grins at her, tossing his shaggy black hair as he turns to look at Lenox. She groans. "If I don't finish everything will be ruined! One less Worker!" Lenox gulps, and suddenly the knot is tied, Scratch grins widely and jumps to his feet, inspecting the scale model replica of a District Ten slaughter house which he has just finished.

"What was the point of that?" Lenox asks, bewildered.

"No idea." Scratch grins, "Sure took my mind off those trees though. Got me in the Hunger Game celebration spirit and all that!" Lenox rolls her eyes, this guy was starting to remind her of her big brother, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, he just sort of drifted along at the back, doing whatever was asked of him. He turns suddenly, rushing off down the hall.

"Come on, squirt!" He shouts, somehow managing to not make the sentence seem menacing, "We've got Private Sessions to get planning!"

**SCRATCH STANDARDS:**

Scratch grins widely, strutting into the room and winking at the nearest Games Maker, who scowls savagely back. He gives a merry laugh, flicking his hair again, a skill which he thought he did very well, and pulling a spear from the rack. He smiles, stretching back and hurling the spear, at close range, through the heart of a dummy, slamming it against the padding of the wall and leaving it hanging there, impaled. His grin widens further, pulling out another spear and charging the next dummy, running it through and pinning it down next to its brother. A third spear was drawn, twisting down through the air to crush the poor things head, before it shot into the padding as well, joining the other two before it, and the three more who came after. Scratch span on his toes, turning and stepping coolly out the room as the Games Makers cast their verdicts.

"That kid's got guts." Simon smiles.

"You bet he has!" The escort from District Eleven laments, "Winking at me after, just the other day, punching me in the face! The nerve!" Pizzo sniggers behind his hand, but is cut short when Felix, the escort of District Three, notices the look that Pizzo is getting from the other escorts, and promptly kicks him in a particularly painful area, knocking him off his chair.

**LENOX CARTER:**

Lenox Carter steps into the room, staring around the large room. Her face falls as she notices the decor. Weapons racks and dummies. No open spaces. Nothing to show off her skills at running.

_'Looks like somebody didn't read the terms and conditions!'_

Lenox groans. First there's that Essence girl, then the Scratch goes cuckoo and now this...

She looks around for something, anything that may redeem the fact that, currently, she is standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by Games Makers and weapons, with absolutely no idea what to do. Her plan ruined, Lenox smiles worriedly at the Games Makers and makes her way over to the weapons rack, pulling out an axe, a weapon that she had at least some competence in, and set to work on the dummies. Simon grimaces, watching as a doll is clumsily decapitated and the next one run through. A mediocre score is on her way, he thinks and that brings him at least some comfort. Lenox starts to work up a sweat, slashing at the doll with all the ability she can muster, before blinking. Surely a range of abilities can only help her. She grins, unsheathing a bow and firing off a couple of shots in roughly the right direction before lifting a heavy looking hammer and smashing in a dummies head.

Simon lifts an eyebrow, it's like watching a clip show. Lenox smiles, strength and ability is good, she thinks, but if you want a really good chance, you have to think on your feet!

**District Twelve:**

Hype Tarick smiles, marching down the hall as he flicks his long, greasy hair left and right, causing a slight swishing sound. He closes his eyes, humming quietly to himself as he slouches along. He reaches into his pocket, retrieving a jelly cube and swallowing it, chewing it noisily before gulping it down.

"Man, this is the life," he mumbles, lost inside his own, rather impressively roomy, head, "Chicks, totally awesome decor an' jello. An' good ol' Daddy-o ain't not nowhere in sight."

"Oh! Hype!" Arixo grimaces, turning the corner and almost knocking poor Hype down. She frowns, before putting on a rather forced smile and brushing a loose strand of hair out of her eyes.

"Oh. Yeah. H-hey Arixo." Hype stammers, staring around her for some help. God, that girl scared him.

"Look. I've been thinking..."

"That's like, real nice Arix', but I gotta go, err..." Arixo frowns at him and he shuts up.

"I really want to live through this, and I have this really good plan that means more than one of us can survive, but I'm gonna need your help."

"I'm not, like, gonna have t' pretend that I like... err... lo..."

"Oh, God no!" Arixo almost shrieks.

"Great!" Hype dashes past her, "Let me know how it turns out dude! Sounds wicked!"

Arixo rolls her eyes. This was never going to work.

**HYPE TARICK:**

Hype shuffles in, head swimming with words and thoughts. That crazy Arixo kid, always making him think about things and do stuff about stuff. Gah, she could be a real problem. He grins meekly at the Games Makers, pulling a mace from the shelf and spinning it expertly in his hands.

"Prepare to be, like, totally blown away!" He swings the mace, instantly remembering what he has been taught in career training and decapitating a row of dummies. He swishes his hair theatrically, imagining that he is playing to a crowd, before slamming the heads off of the next few rows. He then steps forwards, swinging his mace as he approaches the final dummy.

'Hey Hype, what up man?' Hype turns, the voices in his head knocking him off balance as well as any hit.

"Wait! What! Who's, like, jabberin'?"

'Thought you'd know Hype.'

"Murp? You're alive?"

'Nope. But hey, what ya gonna do?' Hype groans, tripping backwards as he backs away from the doll.

He fall, scrambling to his feet and whimpering piteously.

"I can't do this man!" He screams, shacking like a leaf The large teen turns, fleeing from the room as though he were being pursued by a million beasts. In the corner, Connor drops the voice changer microphone he has been holding.

"That little bit of psychological torture is worth all the research!" He grins.

**ARIXO VARSITY:**

Arixo grins, swaggering into the room full of Games Makers with a look of disdain on her face. She marches over to the weapons rack, and quickly draws the two sleekest looking blades that she can find. She taps off the ground, flinging herself towards the dolls with an exuberant fervor that only an experienced fighter could ever possess. She smiles, foot spiraling from the side to slam into the dolls back as her twin swords hack at its arms. She looks over at the Game Makers and is mildly annoyed to see that none of them are paying the slightest bit of attention. Some kid, probably a Games Makers son, is watching her with amusement, but that doesn't count. She growls, they are looking at District Twelves next great victor, and they can't even sit through twenty four tributes. She snarls at them, spitting on the floor. How dare they ignore her.

_'First Fia Harris District Twelve's swan, then Haymitch Abernathy of the Second Quarter Quell, then Katnis and Peeta Malark the girl and boy on fire, then Roland Sharkly the Master Tactician and it looks like Arixo thinks she's next in this exclusive line.'_

Arixo lands, watching as the doll breaks open, splintering on the ground and smashing its contents across the rough floor.

She sneers, strutting out, before turning to Simon, who looks like the head Games maker.

"Hype's collapsed outside." She rolls her eyes, "He's blocking the door from opening."

_'Well Folks, that's the Private Sessions over and the Interviews tomorrow._

_For those of you who don't know yet, we'll be being joined in the HGTV box, directly in between the President's booth and those lucky Twenty Eight Past Victors. So tune in tomorrow for Zard Frezal! Linkous Lenton! Sevdad Kerin! Ebony Raven! Kai Keol- Kae- Ke- Cola, Kai! Kyte Luch! Beetee! And Haymitch Abernathy!_

_HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!'_

Credits, Fanfare and Fade to black.


	10. Sponsor Lists

With thanks to Catchingfire54321 for letting me use this sponsor list

**It's...**

**A Sponsor List**

_'Hey there, people of the Capitol! It's me, Claudius Templesmith, here with fantastic news about how you, Yes YOU, can sponsor a tribute in the up coming Hunger Games! Sponsoring is important for your tribute and could (no promises) save them from a gory, gory fate!'_

_'So get on those mobiles, flick on that computer or press that little red button now, 'cos this is gonna get ugly!'_

SPONSER LIST:

PM ME TO PURCHASE

You will receive sponsor point for any of the following:

Reviewing: 10 points  
Pm me any ideas for the arena: 10 points  
Guessing the next tribute to die correctly: 20 points  
All tributes start off with 10 points.

**Survival:**

An empty 2 litre water flask: 5 points

A full 2 litre water flask: 30 points

Lamp: 30 points (comes with a nights worth of fuel)

A small basket of food: 45 points (5 crackers, 5 strips of beef jerky, 5 packets of dried fruit)

A large basket of food: 65 points (5 Bread rolls, 10 crackers, 10 strips of beef, 10 packets of dried fruit and 5 apples)

Small pack: 35 points (empty 2 litre water bottle, iodine, 5 crackers and 2 packets of dried fruit)

Medium pack: 45 points (Filled 1 litre water bottle, iodine, 2 bandages and a tourniquet, 5 strips of beef jerky, 5 crackers and 3 packets of dried fruit.)

Large pack: 60 points.(Filled 2 litre water bottle, iodine, 5 bandages, 10 strips of beef jerky, 15 crackers, 6 packets of dried fruit, sleeping bag and 5 fever pills.)

1 bandage: 5 points

Iodine: 20 points

5 strips of beef jerky: 25 points

Tent: 45 points (Holds Three)

Sleeping bag: 40 points

**Weapons:**

Small knife: 25 points

Large knife: 40 points

Slingshot: 15 points

Cudgel: 25 points

Sword: 50 points

Bow and 10 arrows: 50 points (10 points per extra 10 arrows)

Longbow and 5 arrows: 50 pts (10 points per extra 10 arrows)

5 Throwing knifes/ Axe: 50 points

Small Axe: 25pts

Large Axe: 50 points

A spear/javelin: 50 points

Trident: 50 points

Mace/ Hammer: 50 points

Kama X2: 75 points (40 points for one)

Claws X2: 75 points (40 points for one)

Boomerang: 50 points

Blow tube and 10 darts: 50 points (10 points per ten darts)

_And..._

**The BIG STUFF:**

Exclusive Capitol tent: 70 points (Extra cozy. comes with a lamp and a days rations)

Capitol medicine: 50 points (Cures one affliction, specify before purchase)

Banquet: 100 points (5 Bread rolls, 10 crackers, 1 Roast pig, 3 Chicken legs, 10 packets of dried fruit and 5 apples)

Capitol Survival Pack: 200 points ( Filled 2 litre water bottle, iodine, 5 bandages, 10 strips of beef jerky, 15 crackers, 6 packets of dried fruit, sleeping bag and 5 fever pills, a tent and a full chicken. All comes in a trunk)

Capitol Made Custom weapons (PM me to ask for what you want): 100 points

The 'We Have An Obvious Plan' Super Happy Fun bread (Victors compliments): FREE (24 bread rolls)

_'So that's it! Now let's get on with this show!_


	11. Interviews Districts 1 to 4

**It's that time again...**

**INTERVIEWS with Caesar Flickerman**

_'Hey there people of Panem!' _The florescent pink haired Caesar Flickerman roars into his microphone, his voice carrying high above the city and into the sky, where several birds are knocked dead by the volume of the noise and a low flying eagle is sent crashing into the ground. _'ARE YOU READY FOR THE NINETY FOURTH HUNGER GAMES?' _The crown bellows and stamps its feet, and Caesar grins, straightening the tie he is wearing and turning to the large gates which, in just a matter of seconds, the first interviewees would be stepping through. _'That's good.' _He grins, his voice silky and measured. _'Now everyone put your hands together for our first tributes, Irre Massenhaft, Wild child of District One, and Essence Craymaker, the Career who backed out of the alliance!' _There is an eruption of applause as the two burst into the stage, swaggering down the red carpet that has been laid there (On the request of Mr Flavious Thorn) and approaching Caesar. Irre grins widely, winking at Caesar through purple tinted glasses, whilst spinning and posing as much as possible, in order to show off the cream coloured suit he is wearing. It is, admittedly, quite impressive, with one half almost completely covered in rubies, the other half in diamonds, with a yin yang cuff link on each sleeve and his yin yang medallion hanging around his neck. Essence's costume is no less impressive, albeit almost the exact opposite of Irre's. Long and black with a kind of floating quality as it trails along behind her.

_'Ohh,' _Claudius Templesmith grins as he looks down at the girl, _'I think there might be some black pearls in there. District One sure hasn't spared any expense this year!'_

"_Woah! District One sure hasn't spared any expense this year, huh!" _Caesar grins, tipping an imaginary hat to Irre and taking Essence by the arm as he marches them up closer to the audience seating so that the President can get a better look at them.

"_Well then!"_ Caesar begins, _"Lets start off these interviews with the Gentleman!"_ He grins widely, turning to the now sour and moody looking Irre Massenhaft.

"_So... 9 out of twelve, eh? That's pretty impressive."_

"Should have been a 12." Irre growls, his face contorting with rage as a little vein pulses on his neck.

"_Heh, that's what they all say big guy. So, anyway, nice costume this year I must say."_

"Thanks." Irre seems to cheer up, grinning widely and patting the smaller man on the back, "Idea of my Mentor! What up man? Great job teaching me!"

"_Now that's more like it," _Caesar beams, _"Am I right folks!" _The crowd cheers. _"So, Irre, any stories from home to speak of ?"_

"Nah, man. Like everyone else at home, I was very upset about smashing in Dazzles head. She was a great Career, it was just a shame she made that comment about my brother. I'll be out to win this for her. Dazzle, wherever you are, it may not be you winning it, but all that money'll sure make me feel better!" He gives a cheery thumbs up and in the box, Claudius raises an eyebrow.

"_Wow... that's... pretty deep."_

"Yeah. I'm that kinda loving guy," Irre grins, completely missing the sarcasm. "I guess I should also dedicate this to my buds back in District One, who hates me, my family, who are scared of me, and my beautiful girlfriend, who I don't have yet but'll surely get when I kill everyone!" Irre's smile widens, he waves happily and turns, marching over to his seat, before sitting down on it and glaring moodily at his blond fellow.

"_So Essence,"_ Caesar grins, instantly moving on to the elegant, but somewhat hesitant girl next to him. _"How's life going for you? Having to stick around with all of those crazy Careers like Irre?"_

Essence shrugs, trying to keep up the confident Career demeanor that everyone seemed to always have. "It kinda sucks. I'm glad to say that I've since found a new alliance, though, and am definitely going to try and win this!" Caesar grins, leaning closer to her.

"_Now tell me Essence, where's all this sudden rebellion come from?"_ Essence blinks, not quite seeming to understand the question, _"Come on Essence, everyone loves a rebel."_

She nods, seeing what he is getting at. Play to the crowd.

"It's not rebellion." She cries, casting aside her normal shy demeanor in favour of a new more rugged persona, "It's basic instinct. Those wimps wouldn't last a minute out there" (Demis and Jules bristle with rage behind the curtain) "I'm just looking out for number one. And District One at that!" The crowd goes wild. If there's one thing that excites a crowd more than savage violence, it would be one Career insulting the others for their amusement.

"_Wonderful, wonderful!" _Caesar chimes, giving Essence a winning smile as she heads for her seat, _"and all of that from a girl who got a respectable nine in her private sessions!" _He then beckons the pair from District Two, introducing them as:

"_The Mighty Demis, Wolfboy, and Verain Longcast, daughter of one thousand Victors!"_

Demis grins, swinging his hands at his side as he tramps down the carpet, a mass of furs and hair and animal skins hanging off him in an almost artistic butchered mess. His arms are covered in metal bands and a torc hangs around his neck. Next to him, the shorter girl swaggers along, a dress of spear heads and glinting weaponry flooding down her body and trailing behind her. The costume is designed to accentuate her curves and, as such is held in at the middle by a series of weapon carrying belts that are wrapped around her. Both tributes sport an elaborate crown, detailing, in Verain's case, the victories of her siblings, Enoch and Ventura, and, in Demis' case, the faces of all the victors that District Two has ever had, every one of their smiling, or grimacing, face encircled by a pack of wolves.

_'Both costumes look extraordinarily uncomfortable.' _Claudius grins, looking down at Enobaria, Zuetos, Enoch and Ventura, the mentors for the two children, _'but these guys tell me that they are in fact far more comfortable than anything these two have to wear at home.'_

"_Let's start with you then Wolfboy! How must that suit feel." _

Demis shrugs, "It's alright."

"_Good news, Wolfboy. So, scored an Eleven I hear. That puts you in a very good position. How does it feel to be the highest scoring Career this year?"_

"It feels..." Demis crumples up his face, looking for the right word, "Exquisite."

"_Smart and talented I see. Any sentiments you want to pass on to home?"_

"Leave the food on the table," Demis grins to the camera, "I'll be back in time for dinner."

"_Excellent!" _Caesar grins, crossing off intelligence from his mental list of Demis's strong points, _"Now Ms Longcast, on to you. I hear you got a nine this year as well. Impressed?"_

"Not really," Verain shrugs, as her brother, Enoch, bursts into laughter, up in the Victors box. "Enoch got a twelve on his and Ventura got an eleven. Even Evonne and Kendis got tens."

"_Ah, Enoch would be the Career who killed sixteen tributes in the Bloodbath." _Verain nods, _"And Ventura is the one who ripped that other girls spine out." _Another nod, _"So who are Evonne and Kendis?"_

"My brother and sister." Verain smiles sadly, "Evonne was decapitated by that District Twelve winner, Roland Sharkley, five years ago, and Kendis was the one whos foot got crushed in the Cornucopia the year later."

"_Ah yes, no one could get close enough to kill him until we flooded the thing with lava. So, out for revenge?"_

"You bet I am!" Verain roars, "I'm gonna go out there and do it for them!"

"_So Verain, the question that is on the whole of Panem's lips is, can we expect the same stunts that your surviving brother and sister showed us?"_

"You bet! They haven't been training me for the past seven years for nothing you know!"

"_Wonderful to hear!" _Caesar grins, beckoning the two to their seats before the curtain parts and a third pair of Tributes step out.

"_Jakob Hart and Kate Ryal everybody!" _Caesar grins at the crowd, before glaring indignantly at Hart, who is the one who has just spoken. Jakob grins back, the holographic projectors on his suit projecting two perfect duplicates of Flavious Thorn and Zitheneals Denair (possibly the two scariest men in the whole of Panem), who walk down the aisle on either side of the two tributes. He grins, the black rubber like material he is wearing squeaking slightly as he takes Kate by the arm. She smiles, her own black costume twinkling with many lights. A pair of large black wings, lit up with dazzling bulbs, arch from her back, twitching occasionally as the miniature hydraulics inside the dress make it look like the black feathers that cover it are actually moving. Alive almost.

"_Well aren't you two a pretty pair." _Caesar grins, _"It takes me back to a certain interview I made many years ago." _The crowd erupts with cheers and the sounds of betting, as all around them people place their bets on which interview he means. _"So Jakob, Kate, Six a piece, where does that put you?"_

"In a very good position Mr Flickerman," Jakob grins, this time mimicking Kate's voice in his answer, causing the taller girl to giggle. "Not too high, which would make us a target and not too low, which would mean we didn't get any supporters."

"_Ah, that's the diplomatic answer Jake, and you know it. So, another important question out at the moment is, who are you doing this for?"_

"I can't talk on Jakob's behalf," Kate smiles, flicking her hair in a way that is obviously designed to be sexy, "But I'll be doing this for my big brother, John. He's been such a great father figure to me for these past nine years, and I think that the money will go that little way to paying him back." The seating erupts with catcalls and wolf whistles as a group of men cheer the girl, and are immediately sedated.

"_That's awfully considerate of you young Kate. So, finally, how do you think you'll fare in the Arena you two? Any secret plans?"_

"Well, if we told you then it wouldn't really be a secret would it?" Jakob grins and Kate nods in agreement.

"We have our plans Mr Flickerman, and be sure that they are very good plans, but we wouldn't want to ruin the surprise now would we?" Kate giggles and, in the stands, the male watchers over the age of ten go crazy, whistling, throwing flowers and shouting compliments. While the male watchers under the age of ten gag and quickly look the other way, muttering something about cooties.

"_Next to make their way up are Jules Radcliffe, the youngest Career ever seen, and Blake Kaitz, the 'darling' of District Four."_

The two walk into view of the camera, the youngest of this years Careers. Jules smiles and waves, a milky white toga draped over her. She wears golden, winged sandals on her feet and her head is wreathed by a number of crab and lobster bones, arranged in a series of intricate patterns. Next to her Blake Kaitz grins calmly, his hands tucked neatly into a slightly crumpled purple tux (which is currently the latest style). He smiles at a group of women in the audience, who immediately begin to coo and giggle. Blake walks up to Caesar, his hair neatly parted, the two trained lobsters that have been made to stand on his shoulders click their pincers, but otherwise stand perfectly still.

"Hello." Blake smiles, waving to the audience, half of whom stare dreamily at him.

"_I don't know." _Claudius groans, _"If it's not one half of the audience it's the other."_

"My name ish B-B-Blake Kaitsh!" The boy turns to Caesar, "Do y-you h-have any queshtonsh for me Mishter Templeshmith?"

"_Actually I'm Caesar Flickerman, but thanks for asking. So Blake, a moderate score of Seven. Anything to say?"_

"Not really Caesar, I th-th-think I could have done better maybe." He looks dejected, and a tear rolls down his face, "I feel t-t-terrible. I jusht hope that my fansh out there won't think any lessh of me becaushe of it." His whimpering raises the indignant howls of women in the front few rows. "I really want thish."

"_Care to elaborate?"_

"You see," Blake begins, "My parentsh died in a fire when I was very l-l-little..."

"_You still are." _Blake ignores Caesar and continues.

"Me and my sishter and brother have lived off the shtreets for years and- and she'sh very sick. But somehow sh-she's managed to look after ush all this time. But I knew it was getting bad. Sho I went out and I got a job as a Career fighter so that one day, when I won, I could pay for her operation and buy us a house, an' then we wouldn' be cold or lonely any more." Behind him, Jules is very nearly sick and she stands up to the microphone as Kaitz walks over to his seat, wondering if he overdid that.

"_And plucky young Jules Radcliffe I see."_ Caesar grins, _"With another nine. How do you Careers do it?"_

"It's something called balls Caesar," Jules growls, causing Caesar to turn to the camera and give an awkward shrug, "It's something that that sissy Blake Kaitz, and all those other good looking _freaks_ wouldn't know anything about." The audience gasps.

"_I guess that's gonna make it kind of hard for you to stay in alliance with Blake if you hate him." Caesar grins._

"I'm not planning to," Jules grins, "Soon as I get a chance I'm breaking out of there. I'm a lone wolf and I'm not going to share the prize money with anything!" She looks over at Demis and raises her eyebrows, her face softens, before remembering what she's just said and glaring. Caesar smiles.

"_So, any news from the Western Front?" _He grins.

Jules stares blankly at him.

"_Any possible Alliances, or dare I say more than an Alliance with someone?"_

Jules shrugs.

"_Anyone with whom you might be willing to share the prize."_

The blank staring continues.

"_Oh for the love of... Do you have a boyfriend Jules? OK? Do you have a boyfriend?"_

Jules jumps about five feet in the air, much to Claudius Templesmith's amusement, and begins to look around desperately, like a mouse caught in a trap.

"Me? No! Of course not! Do I look like a girl who would want any of these guys to be my boyfriend? Err, err, any guy to be my boyfriend? Err. I mean, it's not like I don't want a boyfriend but he'd have to be big and strong and De... delicious! I mean..." Caesar smiles sympathetically. The cute kids always got good stuff from Sponsors, so that should have helped her a bit.

Behind Caesar, Demis watches with interest. That little Jules girl was kind of cute when you thought about it. Like a little sister. Sure she might be a bit annoying, and from his spars with her he knew she had serious anger issues. But she was a cute kid. And she needed someone to protect her.

He sits back and smiles.

What a shame he was going to have to kill her.

Arcticmist: 10

A type of Wallflower: 20

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 10

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 30

Ereader64: 10

Son of X: 10

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 10

Ginny Weasley23: 20

Narcissa Weasly: 20

HelloPoppet123: 30

MySoulToReap: 10

Beware of the Nargles: 10

seagreeneauty: 10

skygirl4ever: 10

wildone97: 10

pianoette: 10

MyRedPheonix: 10


	12. Interviews Districts 5 to 8

**It's still time for...**

**INTERVIEWS with Caesar Flickerman**

The two tributes from District Five step out from behind the curtain. Quentin grins, waving to the crowd and absorbing their attention as the little twelve year old trips behind him. Quentin grins widely, his face contorting into a massive forced smile. He gives a little twirl, showing off the rows of metal canisters that line his bright red suit. A long scarf made out of the skin of some animal that had been specifically engineered (District Five was above even the Capitol when it came to genetic engineering) to make into a scarf hangs off of his neck and a pair of large flight goggles cover his eyes. Behind him Teagan trips on her long dress again. The dress is, quite literally, made out of flowers and her arms are almost entirely covered in see through pipes. Inside the pipes weird blue liquid is pumped up and down her arms and into a small pack that has been strapped to her thigh, which is what is causing her to trip over. This is not helped by the incredibly high heels she is wearing in order to appear taller (so that she wouldn't be completely hidden behind the taller boy. Caesar smiles widely as the two figures step towards him.

"_So, District Five! The Mayor's son and the Innocent one, hmm, I guess we'll just have to call him District Five's Romeo and her the girl who walks with flowers." _The crowd cheer and Caesar grins widely._ "So, how's it going with you guys? A five for Quentin and a six for Teagan. Not the most impressive scores but, how do you guys feel about it?"_

"Disappointing." Quentin growls, his face falling back into its natural moody demeanor, which actually made him look a lot better, "I was expecting a twelve ya know? But, what the heck, I'm sure those jack asses in Panem will know what kinda stupid mistake they made when I win the Ninety Fourth Hunger Games!"

"And you, Teagan?"

"Better than I expected, actually. I was really expecting to get a really low score like two, so I guess getting a six is good. I just hope that I'll get lots of support and help from all of my sponsors out there." She smiles and trips, but her arm is caught by Caesar, who helps her to her feet. "Thanks."

"_OK, next question. Guys, how has your Hunger Game experience been so far and how long do you think you'll last?"_

"I-Its been really great." Teagan smiles, "Everyone's been really nice and thoughtful and I've had a lot of fun. I don't think..." She gives a squeak as Quentin trips her, knocking her to the ground as he barges past.

"I'm going all the way!" Quentin grins, eyes wild with excitement, "Those reject judges may have given me a lousy score, but believe you me, I can do this! I bet you anything that I will have killed off half the competition by the time I've left the cornucopia."

"_Well that should be spectacular!_" Caesar grins, "_Any last thoughts before you go off and get prepared?"_

"Sure. Remember people of Panem, I'm the one to watch!" Quentin throws back his head and laughs, before Caesar passes him to once again help Teagan to her feet.

"Can I sit d-down," Teagan moans, "I'm n-not very steady on my f-feet."

"_Be my guest." _Ceasar grins, ushering the two to their seats. _"Now, Lets go on to District Six. It's the Ninja Princess and the Medicine Man, Emery Lox and Phillip Sutton everybody!"_

Emery smiles, being the first of the two to step onto the carpet. Her hair is tied back into a bun and a small golden tiara has been placed on her head, decorated with a yin yang symbol and all sorts of other classically ninja-ish things. She is dressed in a purple bodice and a purple silk skirt with a train that falls to the ground and trails along behind her. She waves to the audience, looking almost completely out of character with what a ninja is supposed to look like. Her golden peep toes heels click against the soft carpet and the butterfly token in her hair glints as she makes her way up the stage. Behind her, Phillip Sutton steps from behind the curtain and takes her arm. A head dress made of gold graces his head and, below that, a large necklace covered in all sorts of odd golden talisman and vials of different liquid. Phillip is also wearing a purple dress shirt and a golden waistcoat with golden buttons and several faces stitched into it, but none of this is quite as impressive as the head dress. As the two reach the end of the carpet Phillip spins a snake headed staff out from behind his back and Emery jumps into the air, somersaulting off the ground and kicking off both heels. The two heels spin through the air, ripping open as they go and releasing two birds who have been placed in there, which go flapping off into the distance, away from their prison. Phillip drops to a crouch, slamming the staff into the carpet and grimacing slightly as Emery lands on his back, doing a little twirl before sending a winning smile in the direction of the HGTV box. Phillip feels his back shake. Heavy lifting was usually Adam Divon's specialty. Phillip just wasn't designed for this. Caesar claps enthusiastically .

"_Brav, bravo. That was some impressive moves. Wherever did you learn to do that?"_

"Circus." Emery smiles slightly, "Me and Phil are members in our free time. It pays pretty well."

"That particular piece is from a play called 'cygnus ac sagitta'." Phillip lies, easily recalling the latin phrase that he learnt from an old book, "It's a famous story in District Six which represents the death of two lovers who, whilst separated go mad for want of seeing each other and die in agony."

"_That seems awful." _Caesar smiles, _"We're going to see more of it I hope?"_

"You need more people for the full piece." Emery smiles, "And no one knows it as well as our troop."

"_I must remember to hire them for the victory banquet." _Caesar smiles, _"Well, anyway, an Eight for our Princess and a Six for the medicine man, eh? Hoping to put a scratch on the Careers with scores like that?"_

"I should hope not!" Emery smiles, "We'll be doing our best to avoid meeting them up close! Leaving traps should do it."

"_My, that's not very sporting."_

"I know." Emery grins widely, twisting on her foot and stretching, as though uncomfortable with standing still, "But it will keep us alive. Philly..." Phillip rolls his eyes, whispering to her in hushed undertones not to call him 'Philly' as several members of the audience give an 'Aww' and make kissy faces. "Like I was saying, **Philly** is the most excellent trapper ever to have lived. If anything he should at least be able to kill most of those Careers with those 'completely undetectable traps' of his." Emery smiles. Phillip knows perfectly well that she is bluffing, but the words work as well as a boost for his confidence as they do a warning to the Careers.

"_Interesting. I'll be sure to watch out for that. So, what are your plans of you win?"_

"I'm thinking that I'll settle down in a nice house." Phillip smiles wistfully, "And pay for that operation that Emery's dad needs."

"_Seems like a lot of people need operations down in the Districts." _Caesar grins slyly at Phillip, ushering him and Emery to their seats before calling for the tributes from District Seven.

"_It'll be difficult for our next tributes to top that!"_

The curtains set aflame as Pyro steps through it, throwing down a match and setting either side of the red carpet aflame. The trailing black cloak swings around him, mimicking gigantic bat wings that seem to spring from his back. His hair had been dyed blue and, over his face, a large white paper mask in the shape of a skull glares out at the crowd. Pyro grins, the red contacts that he is wearing reflecting the flames at the crowd as his costume flutters and changes, this time swelling the arms into gigantic claws.

"_Pyro, Death by Burning!"_

Kayton Roys takes rather a while to step out.

"_She may just be camera shy"_ Claudius smiles,"_or it may be that living in such a... flammable... environment."_

When Kayton finally does step out, her hair gelled into a rather overly complicated twisting hairstyle that sort of resembles tree branches. Her eyes have been given contact lenses in order to make her eyes the same colour as her hair, which is a very popular look in Panem at the moment. Her costume is a crop top that appears to be made of wood and a long dress that looks like its made out of some sort of paper. She smiles at the audience, a cluster of wooden charms shaped like faces dangling from her necklace and earrings as she twirls. On her feet are a pair of green heels and a pair of long green tights cover her legs. In the audience, Hamlet Viridis mutters something about 'far to revealing', and turns away. As they reach the end of the carpet, Pyro reaches up to his head dress, ripping it off of his face and setting it on fire with a match he has produced from his sleeve. He rips at his cloak, setting it alight as well and throwing it to the side, almost setting Kayton's highly flammable dress alight, but fortunately for Viridis' eyes, he misses her, sending the cloak into the flames and disintegrating it instantly. Pyro steps forwards, grinning as he flexes the muscles on his chest, and grins at the attention he is getting.

"Haven't you guys ever seen a guy in his underwear before," Pyro grins as Viridis faints and Kai Keoloha, who is standing in the HGTV box behind Sevdad Kerin, pushes herself so far up on her toes that she slips, falling to the ground and bashing her head with an uncomfortable thud.

"_Was that what I think it was?"_ Caesar grins, astounded, _"Is this possibly a hark back to the famous 'Girl on Fire' Katniss Everdeen? Could it possibly be a sign of another great tribute going on to victory over the rest?" _Behind the curtain, Violina, the District's stylist, collapses in exasperation, Caesar rolls his eyes, _"Or maybe that just wasn't mean to happen. So, an Eight for Ash..."_

"Pyro."

"_...Pyro and a Seven for Ms Roys. How do you guys rate your chances of winning with those scores?"_

Pyro points behind him, grinning wildly and tosses his dyed blue hair. "That fire'll be the death a most of the tribbies in this 'rena."

"_We remind listeners that Tribbies means tributes and 'Rena means Arena."_

"I'll be going home from here." Kayton growls, gritting her teeth, "My brother needs me."

"_Brother? Oh, please tell."_

"My brother. Laken Cresten..." Pyro throws his head back and laughs, eyes ablaze in the light and Kayton looks away from him, blushing slightly as she tries to ignore the series of scars which criss cross his muscular chest.

"LAKEN CRESTEN? LAKEN CRESTEN!" Pyro continues to laugh, before grabbing her under the chin and lifting her onto her tiptoes and giving a weird little pout that makes his cheeks look deformed, "Get over yerself, sister. Laken Cresten is the Mayor's oldest son. You're the daughter of crazy ol' Huron. I don't care what sorta sick fant'sies you 'ave 'bout Laken an' 'is siblin's, but don't claim you're a Cresten." His face peels into a sick smile and Kayton struggles, trying to get his hand off her face. His nails dig in and Caesar runs forwards to separate them, smacking Pyro around the face with his mike and sending him reeling back onto the floor. This gains a cheer from the crowd and a wide smile from the President, whose kids cheer with excitement in their box. Even Mr Book, the normally deadpan Mr Book, gives a small sneer. Kayton rubs her cheeks and spits at Pyro, who somehow manages to set the spit on fire when it lands.

"I am Huron's daughter." Kayton smiles, looking at the cameras, trying to imagine her Mother's face as she watches, "But I am also the child of Liala Cresten, the Mayor's wife!" The crowd gasp, and Caesar grins widely, dusting his mike off as he escorts the two to their seats. This was going to create a lot of controversy in District Seven, he thought. And it wouldn't be bad for his cool factor either. After all, he had been doing this job for forty years. It was about time for a new cool factor. 'Cos he was running out of hair colours.

Georia smiles, looking down at the tiny boy who stands next to her. As he takes her hand and steps out into the lights and cameras the crowd applaud enthusiastically and several members of the audience give an 'aww'. Alew is dressed in a black and white costume that is similar to a clown costume. It is at least two sizes to big for him and incorporates a two long tails, which are starched so that, rather than falling to the ground, they curve upwards and connect to the pointed hat he is wearing. Georia personally found it slightly crazy, but other people seemed to like it, so she guessed it was OK. Alew grinned at her, his powdered white face full of joy, completely forgetting that he was supposed to be terrified.

Georia herself is dressed in a long white dress that accentuates her white hair, and makes her look slightly ethereal. A black necklace covered in wooden beads graces her neck, and she smiles as she approaches Caesar, who raises a hand in greeting, patting both on the back as they pass.

"_Sevdad's kids! Wonderful to see you two tonight!" _Caesar's face stretches into a smile that Georia would have thought too wide to exist as he talks to them, _"Not the best scores, eh? Two fours. That's pretty low. How does that make you feel?"_

"Could be worse." Alew shrugs, "At least I didn't really embarrass myself."

"Y-Yeah!" Georia gives a forced smile, wrapping a protective arm around Alew as she surveys the unwelcome faces of the other tributes. "The Careers will probably ignore us now, right?"

"_Sure thing hun'." _Caesar grins, before continueing, "_So, I here that you two have struck up a kind of alliance against Ms Connolly of District Ten. Care to elaborate?"_

"She's a real jerk!" Alew pouts, and the audience give another aww, choosing to watch him rather than the rather creepy girl, for which she was glad.

"_Good answer! OK, these costumes this year are real inspiring stuff, huh? What's the inspiration behind them?"_

"I think it's history or something." Alew says, looking down, "With a Panem Twist, Ms Medusa says."

"_That's a drink, kid."_

"Oh." The audience give another loud 'aww'.

"_Earlier today we asked Ms Greka Medusa where she did get the inspiration for these costumes." _Claudius grins, enthusing the crowd from up in the box, _"She told us that she had initially been going for something futuristic, but she saw a history program a couple of nights ago and fitted out her tributes accordingly. She said, and I quote, 'You should have seen Georia's face when she saw her's'. Now, we didn't but I have here an artists impression which I think is pretty accurate."_

An image of Georia's face, contorted in fear and horror, appears on the screen. Claudius laughs.

"_Got ya! Honestly, I'm sure she loved it."_ He turns, to watch the crowd as the camera shifts back down to Caesar, who twirls a grey hair in between his fingers as he addresses the two tributes.

"_OK, finally," _he croons, _"That grand prize is a lot of money. If you could have it, and keep it, what would you do?"_

"I'd go crazy," Alew yells enthusiastically, bouncing up and down as he answers, "I'd bye all of District Eight, an' I'd be Mayor, an' I'd get all the candy an' video games I could ever want, an' I'd eat till I barfed and then eat more and more and more. An' I'd pay to have surgery so I'd never get old. Like you Mr Flickerman!" The crowd are so overpowered by Alew's, slightly feigned, cuteness, that they run out of 'Aww's by the time he finishes speaking.

"_And you, my lady?"_

Georia starts to sweat as eyes, for the first time, turn to her. She gulps and her mouth runs dry. 'Come on', she urges herself, 'say something! Everyone will hate you if you don't say something!'

"I..."

'Say it!'

"I..."

'Say it!'

"I, I, I..."

'GET A GRIP GIRL!'

"I would like to be loved..."

"_Well of cou..." _Caesar watches as Georia stumbles, sinking to the ground and falling unconscious, her skin more sickly and pale than that of Pyro. _"Oh." _He whispers as the girl writhes on the ground, her body convulsing with fits.

"_W-we'll be back after these messages!" _Caesar shouts hurriedly, and the cameras cut to an unscheduled break.


	13. Interviews Districts 9 to 12

AN: Sorry for the slow update, exams are coming up down here so I've had a preposterous work load (Stupid GCSE's)

Last week we saw shouting, burning, arguing and fainting. None of which will be explained in this chapter because, well, it's a TV show. And now it's time for yet more

**INTERVIEWS with Caesar Flickerman**

**And now for the thrilling conclusion...**

Up in the President's box, Eutrepe Book rolls her eyes and despairs, watching as the unconscious girl is carried off the stage so that the next tributes can be bought out. She rolls her eyes, the girl had obviously caught something stupid working in those factories in District Eight all day. Next to her, the Mentor of District Four grins, obviously pleased that there was one less enemy tribute for Jules to deal with. The mentor gets up, standing to her feet and turning to the handsome mentor off District One in one motion. Zard Frezal's grin is equally as wide and, Eutrepe smiles slightly as she notices it, for once not forced. The man bends down to his fellow, whispering in her ear.

"All going to plan." He laughs huskily and turns, leading her back to the room next door, where the other mentors are seated. Eutrepe glares suspiciously after them and disregards it, before turning back to the interviews.

District Nine had just stepped out from behind the red curtain, their costumes fluttering slightly in what was now an early evening breeze. Eutrepe smiles slightly, they weren't the most impressive costumes she had ever seen, but they could certainly look worse. Alylla stands tall, wrapped in a dark purple sweater, black bracelets running down her arms and long shoes that come up to her knees. Her neck is adorned with some sort of necklace and, from atop her head, flows a long bow, tying her hair back and trailing, seemingly against the laws of gravity, above her head in a kind of intricate spiral. Long red ribbons, decorated with bells and symbols, trail from her jumper, trilling with every step she takes, every move she makes makes a slight noise. Caesar had really introduced her as 'Dragon Girl'? Eutrepe sneers, the girl looks more like something out of one of those 'Anime' things from the other side of the world than she does like a dragon. Zus' on the other hand, looks nothing like Alylla. A scruffy army shirt and long button up coat, something like a cross between a flat jacket and a trench coat, hangs off of him in a well choreographed heap. His smart black trousers are weathered and beaten, and around his neck hangs a long, black, scarf. His head is adorned with a fedora and his feet, dusty grey gangster shoes. It is as though someone had taken pictures of a historical figures, ripped them up and made a collage of them on Zus. But oddly enough, it suits him. Caesar grins at the pair as they step off the red carpet and, unfazed by the events of a few hours ago, begins to bombard them with questions.

"_Well, well, well," _Caesar shakes the hands of both tributes and winks at them, _"An Eight and a Ten, eh? Those are some pretty impressive scores. Anything to say on the matter?"_

"******* brilliant, Flickerman!" Zus drawls, tipping his hat up, "I take it, I'm the one who got the ten, right?"

"Hey!" Alylla roars, rounding on him, "What makes you think you got a Ten? Everyone knows that I'm the one who got that!"

"Yeah ******* right!"

"_Now, now kids, don't fight."_ Caesar grins even more widely, his head looking like it may topple off his body if the grin increased. Two fights, a fainting and a pile of good and bad scores. Just what every TV show host dreamed of.

"Why the **** shouldn't we ******* fight?" Zus curses, and Caesar rolls his eyes. Profanity. Now that wasn't going to help him get too many sponsors.

"Look, just tell us who got the ten." Alylla growls, glaring over at Caesar.

"_Sorry kid, can't tell."_ Caesar winks at her, reaching up and ruffling her hair with a pink nailed hand. _"Besides, why waste time on that when you could be entertaining the crowd and earning some sponsors, eh? So tell us, how are you two getting on?"_

Alylla looks up at the audience. Now looks like the appropriate time for some sort of acting. It was just a good thing that her room mate Herodox was such a great actor and had taught her everything she knew.

"Zus is a great guy!" She smiles, "It's gonna be really hard for me to kill him, ya know? It really is going to be the toughest thing I've ever tried to do, and I'll need everyones help and support to do it." She sniffs into a hankie and Zus groans under his breath, mouthing profanities at her. Did she really think that playing to the audience would help?

"_Well then, what's it like to leave your family and friends behind and come out here to beautiful Panem," _The crowd cheer and hoot, _"for the chance to win glorious, glorious prizes?"_

"It ******* suck, OK!" Zus roars, "You freakin' Capitol ***** think this is just real fun an' good, huh? Well it ain't! I got a family at home, ya know? You ******* ***** don't know anything 'bout glory an' that sorta ****!" The crowd stares at him, livid, too angry to speak. Caesar feels himself rolling his eyes again. This boy was an idiot. Was he trying to lose sponsors.

"Are you trying to lose sponsors?" Alylla sneers at him under her breath, before turning to the crowd and grinning widely in a way that was supposed to seem friendly.

"It's a great feeling, Caesar!" Alylla simpers, looking up at the faces of the crowd, who were now purposefully ignoring Zus and, with a few exceptions, had turned to look at her. "It just feels so refreshing to be away from those horrible factories. It's just so good to be down here, in this magnificent city of hope and liberty! I'm enjoying every moment that I'm doing this, it's, it's like a dream come true! And, if everyone votes for me, I know that I won't disappoint! I love Panem!" The crowd erupted in applause and Alylla can't help giggling as she is ushered to her seat. The idiots had fallen for it. That little pre-prepared speech had just gained her a load of sponsors, and lost Zus an army of them.

Up in the stands, Linkous Lamont grins widely, his face stretching and contorting so much that, to the two victors standing on either side of him, it looks like he has just been punched in the stomach.

"You show 'em Zus," he whispers, pocketing the picture of a pair of grinning teens that he has had held in his hand for the last few interviews, "don't let those Capitol dogs get to you."

April sneers at the audience as she steps out onto the red carpet, giving a little twirl and watching as the short white dress she is wearing. The crowd ooh and ahh as they take in the feathers and bells that decorate it and the red wires that are built out from the bottom of the dress and connect to the high heeled shoes that she was wearing. Her hair has been dyed a weird shade of purple (which is in fact a very attractive colour in Panem) and her arms and legs are covered in weird white thorn patterns (which are, once again, the hight of fashion in Panem). A white mask covers her face and long white gloves come up from her arms to her wrists. Behind her, sticking to the shadows, skulks Trent Flee. April looks back at him, eyes blazing as she sucks up the attention she is getting. Skulking wasn't easy for Trent. It wouldn't have been easy for anyone who was dressed as a giant Christmas tree. Or at least, that's what she thought he looked like, all flashing white lights and white cloak. His face is covered as well, obscured by a mask that is identical to hers, but with the notable exception of a large pyramid style helmet covering his eyes.

"_Evening, tributes!"_ Caesar grins, _"How goes the work?"_

"Good..." Trent grunts.

"_Not gonna say more?"_

"No..."

"_Sure?"_

"Yes..." Trent sniffs, his eyes dull and emotionless.

"_A seven for you April, but only a four for Trent? What went wrong?"_ Trent smiles slightly, but says nothing.

"_Not at all depressed?"_

"No... It's a good position..."

"_How?"_

"Count your blessings..." Trent mutters and April glares at him, slightly sower that he isn't annoyed about his pitiful score.

"_So, moving on. Are any of you doing this for a reason? What do you want to gain from being in the Arena?"_

"My family." Both tributes say in unison.

"_Popular subject as of late."_ Caesar drawls. _"Lots of people are talking 'bout their families. So, please tell."_

I'm a bit simple... All I want is a nice... normal... family..." Trent smiles wistfully, looking up to the dark night sky as he speaks, "I am doing this for the family I am going to have... Not the one I have now..."

"_Wow. That's a bit harsh on your folks, ain't it?"_

"Not really... What we don't have is what we always want... I don't have a good family... so a family is what I want..."

"_That's philosophical of you."_

"Of course. I am a philosopher."

"_That's good to hear, Trent. And you April? Why are your family so important to you?"_

"It was years ago. Back when I was just a baby." April begins, "I don't really remember it, but I know it happened. My parents disappeared. Died. And I woke up with no memories of anything but death, and screams, and the Hunger Games..." She looks down, her eyes hollow and ringed, her previous cocky atmosphere gone. "... And the monsters in my thoughts..." She trails off, sullen and pallid. She barely even reacts as Trent lays a square hand on her shoulder, a motion that is normally greatly irritating to her, and leads her to her seat.

Lenox Carter. The girl who stuck her neck out. The girl with more brains than sense. She didn't care for that last one, but that seems to be what people call her now. She smiles over at Scratch, who is just finishing his replica of the Capitol square. She rolls her eyes and looks down, just to make sure that everything was still staying on. She had never been all that comfortable with these sort of skimpy dresses, and, for someone who had spent their entire life wearing old clothes that were too small for her, this one felt at least three times to big. Yellow sequence flash at her, creating a shimmering picture of a District Eleven pasture as she stares at it, before shifting into a field with cows in it and then a gigantic sunflower. Fabric Mutari, is what they had said it was called. Change cloth. Lenox giggles under her breath. OK, the name had seemed kind of stupid.

Behind her, her mentor tuts to her under his breath as he reattaches the butterfly wings for what he hopes is the last time.

"Watch your elbows." He mutters, "It'd be a disaster if these fell off on the catwalk."

Lenox looks over at Scratch again as the taller boy takes her hand and leads her through the red curtain. Scratch is dressed in a similar costume, except for the fact that he is obviously wearing a suit, and not a dress, and where she has horrible arm constricting butterfly wings, he has gigantic crab claws covering his hands that prevent them from moving. Which seems kind of out of place with the floating cloud motifs that he has built into his blue suit.

"_Lenox, Scratch, great to see you out here tonight and in such wonderful costumes! Your pretty average district it seems, six apiece. So, do you think you've got a chance against all of those creepy Careers?" Lenox shivers at the thought and Scratch leans over her, taking the microphone and giving a sideways grin to the audience._

"I think we're in a pretty good position actually." he laughs, "Not to steal District Three's thunder to much, but I'll just say it's a great place to be Caesar."

"_Wonderful! And you miss Lenox, how is the prospect of dieing affecting the girl who stuck her neck out?"_

"I'll admit it's slightly frightening," Lenox starts, smiling sweetly at the audience, "But I don't want to worry my fans out there. I may not be the best fighter out there, or the best shooter, but with my speed and camo abilities, not to mention my intelligence, I'm sure that I'll be able to do well in these Hunger Games, if not win it. I just hope that everyone will be really supportive so that I can make it through these tough times!"

"_That's our Lenox, always sweet to a fault. So, next questions to both of you mind, what would you do if you did win this years Hunger Games? All that cash! All that glory!"_

"Me?" Lenox smiles, "I'd live in a big house and not have to work. And I'd use some of the money to buy protection from the Peacekeepers for my families names to be removed from those Reaping Ball things." In the President's box, Flavius Thorn gives a dangerously forced grin to Rule, the escort of District Eleven.

"We totally don't do that!" Rule gulps, rubbing her hands together and backing away defensively. Thorn is dangerous, and everyone knows it.

"Stop working?" Scratch grins lopsidedly, "Why would you ever do that kid? Working is the only thing that makes life worthwhile, gives us a sense of purpose, ya know? If I won I wouldn't need to work, but I would anyway. Sure I'd still have a big mansion an' all, but I'd work for nothing, because that's just what people do in our District!"Those people who have ever been to District Eleven cheer, but the rest of the crowd stare blankly at the two as Caesar moves on to the next question.

"_OK, finally, any last thoughts on the Hunger Games, any extra little messages for your family that weren't in your letters home?"_

"I just want them to know that I love them." Lenox smiles, "And not to feel bad if I don't make it back." There is a brief pause.

"_And you Scratch?"_

"..."

"_..."_

"..."

"_Well?"_

"Nah, I got nothin'. I'll just say 'see ya'!" Caesar groans, another idiot. He ushers them to their seats and then turns to the curtain for a final time, eager to usher in the last couple.

"Ugh." Arixo spits on the floor as she makes her way onto the red carpet. "Why a dress," she grumbles, "I hate dresses!" The dress, to give it credit, is actually very nice. The dress was long and emerald green, flowing down from her waist to her knees in a layers. Something like a waterfall. Her hair has been braided into some sort of weird Capitol loop style and, due to the application of far to much makeup, she was starting to feel like a Picaso painting. In fact the only part of the costume that she really cared for was the tank top, which her stylist had allowed her to pick as long as she wore the dress. Next to her, Hype Tarick is acting like an idiot. Well, more of an idiot. He smiles to her, his teeth covered entirely in holographic blue lights that blind the people in the front row every time he opens his mouth. Apart from that Hype isn't really wearing all that much, his long hair has been tied back with a ty dyed headband and he is wearing a pair of ty dyed shorts, and that's pretty much it. The costume is designed to show off his muscles, which have gone a rather unattractive blue-grey in the freezing night, and also proves that he has more showmanship than sense. As they get to the end of the runway, Arixo takes the time to take in the other tributes. The Careers are looking fierce and angry, District Three's tributes are muttering to each other behind their hands and Pyro of District Seven looks like he is going to attack someone in a split second. Caesar holds up a reassuring hand and helps her off of the platform, before immediately firing into questions.

"_So, Arixo and Hype, a Nine and a... TWO? Yikes Hype, what went wrong?"_

"No biggie, man. I was just, like, totally out of it that day. Kept hearing good ol' Murp saying 'like, dude, you totally killed me, that was so not awesome.' Guess I must a just tripped out or somethin'. I do it s'mtimes. It's, like, a real psych out man, an' I'm just standing there an' suddenly it's all like 'woah, total brain slam', if ya know what I mean."

"_I have not a clue! So, what about you Arixo, are you looking forward to this Hunger Games knowing that your life could be on the line?"_

"At first, no, I wasn't looking forward to it, but now, now I have a plan! I'm going out there and I know what to do, I know how to win this game and I'm ready for whatever these people have to throw at me. Bring it on!" Caesar chuckles at her enthusiasm.

"_Brilliant to hear such enthusiasm! Now, the real question on Panem's lips is, does this pair have the same chemistry as the famous 'Boy and Girl on Fire' of the 74__th__ and 75__th__ Hunger Games?"_

"Man!" Hype shouts, his eyes full of fear, "I mean... Man! What the... with the..." He gesticulates wildly, pointing at Arixo and then himself in a mad panic, "And the... Man! MAN!" He gasps for air as his temporary insanity builds and he swings his arms about in a mad panic, "Oh brother, I'm, like, feeling all..." he collapses.

"_Fainting. Yeah. A lot of people are doing that one at the moment." _Caesar rolls his eyes, not another wimp with a weak constitution.

"Nah, actually I feel kinda..." Hype groans, lifting his hand weakly, "Ah no... wait." He gulps, his eyes roll up and he faints again.

"_So, Arixo, I can't understand a word Ol' Peace Valley Tarick is saying so, err, you answer the question. Any romance?"_

"God no!" Arixo bristles, eyes wide, "I mean, where did that come from? Who said that? Hype's just like, a guy..."

"_Starting to sound like Hype there Missy."_

"Sorry, but, he's an idiot! A stupid idiot! He's like a sack full of stupid idiots!" She fumes at the thought.

"Hey man." Hype groans from the floor and Caesar kicks him in the head, knocking him unconscious once again.

"Thank you miss Varsity!" Caesar grins, turning to the camera and saluting the audience. "_Tomorrow our tributes will enter the Arena, and I hope they'll all be pleasantly surprised by what they see. So, stay tuned for more parents, kids and grandparents! Say it with me now!"_

Up in the President's box, the Presidential family salute back, with the exception of Eutrepe Book, who is too busy staring dreamily, and rather creepily, at one of the male tributes. She smiles wistfully down at him, but he obviously can't see her. Her smile disappears as quickly and as unexpectedly as it has come when she hears that famous old tag line blaring out across the speakers, spoken by both Caesar and Claudius. Stupid mom, why did she always make them say this?

"_HAPPY HUNGER GAMES! AND WHEREVER YOU ARE, MAY THE ODDS BE FOREVER IN YOUR FAVOUR!"_

Fanfare, Credits and Fade to Black.


	14. And so it begins

A/N:Just a quick update before I go away on holiday for a week, during which time I will be unable to post new chapters, so here's a quick heads up! I you have any weaponry or food you want to purchase using your points, please PM what and I will get onto it in the next chapter!

**This is...**

**The Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

Georia stretches, bleary eyed, and with what she could only describe as hell's own headache bashing away at her from inside her skull. Georia groans weakly, looking down at what had been a beautiful white costume but was now surely covered in grit and mud. She jumps, pulling herself into a sitting position. Her costume is gone, apparently taken back by her stylists, to be replaced with a white towel like dressing gown which, while it covers up everything nicely, covers rather less of her scarred and deformed mess of a left leg than she would have normally liked. She looks around, her eyes blearily taking in Hype Tarick, who is sitting up next to her and is dressed in a similar dressing gown.

"Ah, Georia, you're awake then!" A doctor smiles gently at her, walking over with a clip board and inspecting the leg, "That's a nasty injury you've got there, I hope it's not recent."

Georia stares blankly at him, before answering. "N-no. I've had it for years..."

"Good, good. We can't be sued for it then." She pauses for a second to let his words sink in, before continuing, "So, apart from that, everything seems to be fine." Next to Georia, Hype glares at the doctor, trying to keep focused as his head bobs woozily.

"Hey, man, wait a minute. That girl ain't, like, healthy or nothin'! She was, like, tripped out or something, real mental like!"

"Yes, well Mr Tarick," The doctor says in a voice similar to as if she were addressing a young child, slow and patronising, "Georia's convulsions were simply due to a type of regressive epilepsy, a disease which we invented in the war, nasty but not fatal. The bright lights and excitement is simply responsible for bringing on the seizures." Hype stares blankly at her, "Not that I'd expect you to understand." She sighs. Georia gives another short moan, pulling herself unsteadily to her feet and standing shakily, she looks around her. The room they're in is large and wooden, the sides of it covered in benches, which she had been lying on, and there is a pile of hot coals in the center of the room, which are leaking steam into the room.

"Wait." She mutters, tottering unsurely on her feet as she tries to find a position to balance on, "Where are we?"

"The sauna, man!" Hype grins widely, and the doctor nods in agreement.

"Isn't that, kind of not the place to be seeing patients?"

"Hey, it's the Hunger Games," The doctor smiles, turning to leave, "We doctors need a holiday too!"

"_Yes the sauna."_ Claudius Templesmith booms to the audience, _"Or to be more precise, the sauna of the world famous CoriolanusSnow Bathing Houses! Madam President, in her infinite wisdom, has decreed that this years tributes should be allowed to visit this highly prized resort, alongside all the Games Makers who made this possible, so that they can have one last chance to relax before entering the Games!"_

The doctor steps out of the door, and is moderately surprised to find Sevdad Kerin, mentor of District Eight, and Aew Ferove, the other tribute of the district, standing outside waiting.

"She's good to go now Mr Kerin!" The Nurse smiles. Kerin frowns at her, shoving past and barging into the sauna.

* * *

Outside, on the other side of a large, crystal clear pool, District One's Irre and District Four's tributes sit around a mini bar, talking in hushed voices.

"Sho." Blake mutters, his voice silky, "I say that we take out that big guy first."

"Who, Demis?" Irre asks, his eyes ringed from lack of sleep, "He'll be hard to take out, right?"

"If you lay one finger on Demis..." Jules begins, her threat slightly less threating on behalf of the fact that she is about half the height of Irre.

"No, you idiotsh." Blake groans, "I'm talking about that retard from Dishtrict Nine!"

"Zus, eh?" Irre grins, "Yeah right, that idiot won't be able to find his way to the cornucopia, let alone out of it again." Blake rolls his eyes, getting people to listen to him was always difficult when they were as thick as Irre. He looked around, over at the sauna he could see District Eights tributes being led out by their mentor. He grins over at them. They may not look like much, he thinks to himself, but a good mentor can make up for any failure. Just like with his failure of a partner, Jules and her mentor Ebb Raven.

* * *

Arixo Varsity smiles, kicking up and down the pool the other tributes rush around her. She had always liked peaceful areas, they gave her time to think. Even if her swimming was more like some sort of awkward doggy paddle and so slow that even a tortoise could overtake it. Not like those pig from District Two or that tall, kind of handsome guy from District Eleven who kept staring at her ridiculous swimming style, or most of the Victors, speeding up and down the pool. The victors are mostly kepping to themselves, occasionally chatting to each other or grabbing a bite to eat from the buffet at the side, while the District Two pair seem to be a lot more 'boisterous', randomly attacking people at random who look weak when they try to get into the pool.

"_Ah that wonderful go get 'em attitude of District Two! Don't you just love it?_" Claudius beams to the audience.

Looking around some more, Arixo quickly notices that her partner, Hype, is nowhere to be seen. Idiot has probably fallen asleep in the sauna, she thinks, before swiftly getting back to her battle plan.

"Hey there!" A voice shouts, and she sees the tall boy from Eleven running up to her "Hey! You're doing it all wrong!" She glares at him but he doesn't seem to want to leave.

"Move your legs and arms, not your chest. I mean, I know you District Twelve's don't have much water at home but, come on! Try to make a little effort!" Her glare increases as she wills him to shut up and go away, so that she can think.

"Look, like this." Scratch smiles, pushing off the wall and doing a little maneuver so that he twists around and comes back to where she is. "Now you try." She turns her glare up to full Death Glare mode, and tries to shut him up, but he doesn't get the picture, so she just pushes off the wall and swims away. Scratch ducks under the water and follows her, looking up at her from beneath the surface.

"No, no!" He whines, his voice barely audible under the waves, "Use your legs!" He comes up next to her to take a breath and Arixo rolls her eyes.

"Why do I always get stuck being looked after by the losers?"

* * *

Meanwhile, Kate is spending most of her time strutting up and down, showing off. She walks along the pool, trying out the 'sexy' poses that she has been trying to perfect all weekend.

"Why do I even have to do this," Kate mutters, "It's demeaning." Jakob looks at her quizzically, stretching his fingers out in an awkward little motion and raising the portable recorder he always holds to his lips.

"Sponsors." He says simply, "Are the most important part of the Games. The more you have, the better your chances."

"So? Why these ridiculous poses? Can't I just make a speech to the audience to get sponsorship or something." Kate groans.

"Yes, you could." Jakob rolls his eyes, switching voices yet again as he watches the girl from Eight and boy from Seven cower in the corner, neither wanting to go near the water, "But no one would listen to you. Heck, half the audience would just be staring at your chest and drooling, no offense." Kate growls, and for a moment, she feels like marching up to the younger boy and slapping him round the face, but she stops herself. Jakob hadn't meant offense after all. The sheer lack of emotion in his statement was enough to convince her of that. But then again he is an actor, so she just punches him in the shoulder for good measure. Kate groans, sitting down next to him and looking out across the pool. What had it been that Kyte had told her? Make a list of people who look like threats. Well, it would help her at least, she thought. She got a piece of paper and a pen out from the dressing gowns pocket and began writing.

"_Smooth move from Kate, and some nice planning from the Games Makers." _narrates Claudius, "_What WILL they think of next?"_

Kate stuck the pen her mouth and racked her brains. District One seemed like an obvious place to start. The boy was massive and the girl, well, she wasn't so big, but she was a Career in another alliance, so she was probably worth watching. District Two were mean one's, just looking at them she could tell thy were danger, so they went down. No point with District Three unless she was planning on suicide. District Four didn't look like much, just chattering kids really. District Five had that big dopey guy and the little girl, but didn't look like too much trouble. District Six were talented, she'd give them that, and seemed far too close, so they went down. District Seven's boy was certainly dangerous, but the girl didn't look like much. District Eight weren't even worth looking at, they weren't going to win. District Nine had that really big girl and the foreign boy, so they go down as well and District Ten and Twelve's girls go down as well. Jakob whips the piece of paper out of her hands and inspects it, before handing it back to her.

"What about District Ten's boy?" He asks.

"Him, he's asleep!" She bellows, pointing straight at the messy haired boy.

"He ain't, sister." Jakob croons, "He's hiding his face behind his hair, not moving and snoring. He's not asleep." Kate turns her head sideways and Trent Flee slowly slides down onto his side.

"He looks asleep." She ponders.

"He's not." Jakob sighs, holding up the recorder, "I'm surprised you can't see it yourself. It is pretty obvious. He's checking out your legs, girl." He watches as Kate jumps to her feet, jumps into the pool and splashes across to Trent Flee.

"What the..."

Jakob chuckles under his breath, watching as the girl wails on the unsuspecting teen.

"Oh, Jakob, you're a riot." He mutters, borrowing the voice of his best friend, Willie as he watches the carnage he has created. The prankster god is back baby!

* * *

District Six's tributes sit over by the fountain, both wrapped in heavy white towels as they watch their mentor, Kai, with inquisitive faces.

"Rule Number One: Stay away from the cornucopia." Kai dictates, watching to make sure that they're noting this down. "Rule Two: Don't trust anyone except each other. You hear me, no one. Not even each other. Not even yourselves. Not even me! No one.

Rule Number Three: Don't eat any fruits. I know they seem safe but believe me, mutinations are attracted to them. If you see anything that remotely resembles a piece of fruit, run from it like it was the devil himself. Instead survive on an nice blend of rodents and leeches..." Neither of her tributes were listening, instead they were chatting to each other, now completely disinterested.

"OK." Phillip begins, "As soon as it starts we head for high ground, it's normally safer and gives us a good view of the terrain."

"Shouldn't we be more of a roving group?" Emery asks, "You know, wandering around, taking people out when we can, stuff like that?"

"No."

"Why?"

"That's exactly what the Careers do, wander around and wait for you to wander into their path. As long as we don't have anything they want we'll be OK." Emery nods. Phillip was smart after all, he probably knew better than anyone what would and wouldn't work. After all, he'd watched every Hunger Games since they were twelve with a scary kind of interest, as though he knew he would be chosen and had been preparing for it. She pulls herself to her feet and, noticing the tall boy with all the scars from District Seven staring at her, looks away. She knows what he is thinking. It is in his eyes. She looks around. The girl from District Two is staring at her as well. And then she realises it.

They want to kill her. She had said to much yesterday and now, now they are out to get her, to stick her head on a pole.

She had said to much. Told everyone their plan.

"So that's why you wanted to change the plan." She whispers to Phillip.

* * *

Several hours later the tributes are led outside the CoriolanusSnow Bathing House, were a large crowd is waiting for them. They taken by sleek black cars (one for each District) to a launch site, and from there are flown out across the mountains, to the site of this years Hunger Games. Each are led off to their district area, where they are treated to a quick meal of whatever they want and are presented with their tokens, if they do not already have them with them, and several sets of animal skin clothes, which they are told to change into.

"God." Kayton mutters, looking down at the skimpy, battered leather clothes she has been presented with, "Mr Viridis would have a fit if he saw us like this."

"Viridis?" Pyro growls, looking down at his scar crossed chest and his equally skimpy costume, "How do you think I feel? Man, you have no idea how much this bearskin itches!" He growls and mewls but, much to the relief of Kayton and most of the viewing public, refrains from setting the thing on fire, thus saving their eyes from a sight which would require a ridiculous amount of brain bleach to remove. Kayton smiles as she is handed the necklace that she left in her room, and Pyro his empty lighter, and the two step into their pods and are fired up into the Arena.

* * *

Meanwhile Lenox is going through exactly the same problem as Pyro with her clothes. She scratches at the fur vest she has been forced to wear as she wonders whether anyone else is facing the same predicament as her. Infront of her, a frog like Games Maker whose name tape reads 'Sid' inspects her token with curiosity.

"Are you sure this isn't a weapon." He growls, turning the small metal clip over in his hand.

"It's a hair clip."

"Yeah, I know that..." Sid drawls, his ugly face creasing slightly as he attempts to read the tiny inscription on the back. "But it looks kinda dangerous."

"But it's tiny! How could I possibly use it as a weapon?"

"Well, It's not so much it getting' used as a weapon, see, but what if it came out an' went into someone's eye, eh? That could really hurt!"

"Its. A. Hair. Clip." Lenox growls, accentuating every word.

"Yeah, but what about this inscription?"

"What the one that says 'With Love Mom, Farnish, Felix and Felecia'?"

"Oh." The guard squints his eyes and stares at it, "I could'a sworn it said somethin' different... Well what about that rock!" He declares indignantly, pointing a pudgy hand at Scratch's token.

"Brother gave it to me." Scratch states.

"Oh." The guard mutters, sullenly stepping out of the way and letting the two pass.

Lenox growls as she marches off down the hall to their pods. Why didn't she just say her family had given it to her? Had it really been that easy to get a large rock passed the guards. She looks down at her rope belt. At least she'd got some form of weapon into the games. Rope. She was good at using rope. She was the best!

* * *

**Everyone**

**Welcome to the Arena...**

**Of the Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

"_Tributes,"_ Claudius Templesmith bellows, his massive face leering down at the twenty four tributes arrayed beneath him. _"Welcome, to the dawn of time!" _April Connolly rolls her eyes as the man speaks, and quickly looks around. The sky is dark and black, making it hard for her to see and, in the distance, lightning arcs down from the sky. It looks like it's raining outside the pod, except for the fact that the rain is black not clear, and the air is hot on her skin as it seeps through the walls of the pod. What idiot had given these things walls anyway? It wasn't like they were going to move anywhere anyway. She looks around a bit more, there is a mountain in the distance and a couple of trees, and a mound of something in front of her, where the cornucopia is supposed to be.

Looking around, April is somewhat pleased to see that the other tributes have not been spared from having to wear stupidly revealing clothes and ugly warpaint. Not even the younger tributes, like Alew and Teagan, have been spared from the rather over the top costumes, so at least it wasn't just her who looked like some sort of Amazon. She looks to either side. On one side of her stands Kate Ryal, who is probably wearing the least out of any of the tributes, dressed in practically her underwear and that is it. She is looking rather unsure about herself and scuffing her bare feet against the ground in agitation. Well. That shouldn't be too hard to beat, April grins.

To her left stands the idiot from District Five. A large grin is spread across his face and he flexes his muscles as he squints through the pair of goggles that have been placed on his head instead of glasses. She laughs, causing the eyes of the other tributes to be drawn to her, but she doesn't care.

This is going to be easy.

And then the mound in front of her explodes, revealing the cornucopia and ripping away the pods that they are standing in along with a nice big lava flow, and any ideas of this being easy are immediately wiped out of everyones minds.

"_So it begins, folks. And thank you very much to Games Maker akatrixie for suggesting this Arena. If anyone wants to get some items for the Arena, please PM me what you want and I will give it to your character. So without further ado, here's what everyone's got!"_

Arcticmist: 40

A type of Wallflower: 30

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 20

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 70

Ereader64: 30

Son of X: 10

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 10

Ginny Weasley23: 60

Narcissa Weasly: 40

HelloPoppet123: 60

MySoulToReap: 55 + claws

Beware of the Nargles: 30

seagreeneauty: 10

skygirl4ever: 30

wildone97: 30

pianoette: 20

MyRedPheonix: 30

CoolOw: 10

Thanks for watching and see you next week!


	15. Cornucopia: The Musical

One last chapter before I go on holiday! I hope you all enjoy this, because it's going to be the last for a while! And it's gt deaths!

**And now we return to...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

The Cornucopia has, as it always does, a large amount of items scattered around it. This year they have been stacked in large mounds around the base of The Cornucopia in a steep mound that requires both hands and legs to climb. Alylla Stone clutches her side, gritting her teeth as she runs towards The Cornucopia. She gasps for air, cursing the Games Makers for putting The Cornucopia so far from the entrance. Her legs are burning as she rushes towards the thing, through the ash and the burning ground as she tries to ignore the heat, the grit, and the manic laugh of that 'Pyro' kid who is running in front of her.

* * *

"_Just seconds into the Games and this is already shaping up to be an interesting Games!" _Claudius' voice booms, _"All the tributes, with the notable exceptions of Trent Flee, Hype Tarick and District Six appear to be heading for The Cornucopia, if only to grab a few things. No, wait, Teagan Cooper and Jakob Hart of Districts Five and Three also appear to be heading away, albeit at a slower pace! But we now turn back to The Cornucopia, where Ms Essence Craymaker of District One appears to have already reached the surrounding mounds! I wonder if she'll appreciate our little surprise?"_

Essence grins, using the time as she scrambles up the side of the mound that has been placed around The Cornucopia to watch the other tributes. The area is a catastrophe of sound, with Pyro laughing like a maniac and Irre, her district partner, howling curses as he is tripped by Arixo Varsity. Most of the other tributes are gradually making their way to the gigantic horn, though, hopping from heated rock to heated rock as they skirt pieces of rocky shrapnel and stone that was thrust out by the explosion. She notices a set of darts nearby, lying near a large, rusted metal claw. Bending down to pick them up, she smiles to herself. Who knew that winning this would be so easy? All she has to do is kill everyone with the darts and she will be out within the day.

"**TRAITOR!"** The cry comes from behind Essence, and she spins around just in time to be hit head on by Demis, who, seeing her near a claw weapon (a favorite weapon of his) had decided to settle the score for her insults the night before. He grabs her, tackling the struggling blond backwards onto the sharp corner of a box of crackers, and causing her to cry out as it digs into her back. She whips round her leg, catching him in the jaw and knocking him off, but, even as she turns to go for the darts he spins onto his hands and feet, springing at her and knocking the both of them off of the mound and away from The Cornucopia.

* * *

Zus is the next to arrive, vaulting a piece of rock and landing at the mounds base. The boy quickly swings his leg up but, before he can even make any real threshold on the mound, he is jumped on by Lenox Carter of District Eleven, who uses him to scurry up, and Quentin Rapido, who kicks him in the leg, knocking him to the ground, before mounting pile. Zus swears vehemently, groaning in pain as two more scuffling tributes (Kayton Roys and Jules Radcliffe) step on him and begin to climb. He pulls himself to his feet, grabbing Jules round the ankle and flinging her away from The Cornucopia in vengeance for stepping on him a moment ago. He begins to climb, swearing under his breath all the way up the side of the mounds surrounding The Cornucopia. He gets to the top of the small mound and looking down gives a roar. The Cornucopia had looked normal enough when he had first set eyes on it. The slopes had been odd, sure, but it didn't look to different. However, behind the pile The Cornucopia appears to be getting gradually smaller.

It's not.

It's sinking.

The entire cornucopia is gradually, ever so gradually, sinking beneath rising water. Zus stares for a moment, flabbergasted, before letting out a roaring battle cry (which is censored immediately by the staff of HGTV) and hurries down the slope towards the other tributes who have already arrived. He grins savagely. None of them pose much of a threat. Lenox Carter and Kayton Roys are fighting over a backpack. Pyro has just bludgeoned Verain around the head and is reaching for a small pack and Alew Ferove is desperately trying to avoid the attacks of the young Blake Kaitz. Zus spots a longbow and leaps for it, unaware that Quentin Rapido has a similar target. They meet head on and fall to the ground, immediately coming to blows over the bow.

* * *

Down on the other side of The Cornucopia, Irre swings his leg up onto the mound and pulls himself up, quickly followed by both Alylla Stone and Kate Ryal, who have been lagging slightly behind him. On the top of said mound stands April Connolly, who coldly surveys the sharp slope leading down to the flooding cornucopia, which has now reached the ankles of the tributes. She slides down the slope, grabbing a pair of daggers out of the dirt as she goes, immediately throwing them at the two nearest tributes (Alew and Blake) as she does so. They weren't really her best weapons and, predictably, neither hit their mark. One landing in the water and the other only hitting the end of Blake's foot, grazing it and putting him off guard long enough for Alew to splash away. She growls in furry and heads over to a nearby spear, slipping on the wet metal as she rushes towards it.

Alylla wasn't fast. She knew that and so, by the time she reaches The Cornucopia along with Scratch Standards who, while faster, had been spending time at the bottom of the low slope to pick up the large black stone that he had dropped in the ground. She rolls her eyes as she pulls herself onto the mound and stares down at The Cornucopia. That Scratch kid is crazy. Hell, she had to be crazy doing this. The water has now risen to the knees of the younger tributes and, on the other side of The Cornucopia, Demis and Essence scrabble, battered and bleeding, down the other side of the slope (having called the battle a draw so that they could get at least a few supplies) and towards the, now literal, Bloodbath.

Alylla groans, that pretty girl, Kate Ryal, is ahead of her, already half way down the slope. Well, she wasn't going to let that wimp beat her. She bares her teeth, throwing herself down the slope and landing hard in the water, cutting her stomach on a weapon when she lands. She takes a look around, and spots, almost immediately, a pair of clean metal claws. District Two one's at that. The best. She drools slightly as she imagines the carnage that could be caused if she had those, and begins to sprint towards them. Demis sees her, his face contorting with rage, and hefts himself forwards. She looks sideways and her eyes widen. Not him! NOT HIM! The head of the Careers snarls, flying at her and leaping out of the water, his mouth gaping open like a hungry dog, a blood curdling howl escaping his lips. Alylla turns, hands lifted to her face, and catches him as he comes, spinning him and throwing him into the wall, he roars, and is on his feet in a second. He charges back at her, but her fist flies out and catches him in the stomach. She spins, tripping his legs out from under him and slams him in the chin with a jaw shaking uppercut that sends him flying back into the water. Glowering at her as he pulls himself from the waves, Demis watches as the large girl grabs the claws and begins to clamber up the side. He rubs his jaw. She could run for now, he couldn't take another left hook like that. Sure, he'd let her go. She would run. She might even hide. But he would catch her. Catch her and kill her. Jules hits the water next to him, and he turns to her, grinning widely.

"Took your time kid." He quips.

"Shaddup." She looks at him from under her hair, her face contorted in an over done defiant pout. But she is blushing slightly. Oh God, Demis thought, just what he needed, a little girl chasing him around and doing whatever he wanted.

Wait a minute.

That was what he wanted! It was very useful!

"You take the small fry." Demis smiles reassuringly at her, "I'll go for big ol' Zus." He casts his eyes over the scene. What a mess.

* * *

Further down the bottom of The Cornucopia, where all the good stuff is, Pyro pushes Kayton away from him as he tries to find fill the liter bottle he has acquired.

"But I'm on your side!" Kayton shouts in desperation.

"_She's got a point." _Claudius informs the audience.

"They all say that." Pyro mutters, knocking her away again. Kayton rolls her eyes, trying to take a step towards him again. Once again he knocks her back and she roars in frustration.

"_Now he's just being a jerk!"_ Claudius laments. _"Why can't they be more like those Careers?"_

Kayton leaps at Pyro again, reaching out for the back pack, and the big man spins to one side, grabbing a large bottle of iodine from the side, which he throws at Kayton, stinging her eyes and burning her skin. Kayton growls, grabbing an axe from nearby and Pyro grins, flicking his lighter even as she brings the axe spinning round, and easily setting fire to her hair and leather clothing.

"_For those who don't already know, iodine is an oxidizing agent which, while not flammable, certainly make a fire more intense."_

Kayton squeals, noticeably peeved by having her hair set on fire, and falls sideways into the water. She bats at her sccreaming as the flame licks her hair, burning it off quickly and scorching her head. Fortunately the water quickly smothers the flames, putting the fire out before it can do too much damage. Kayton looks up from the water, grinding her teeth as Pyro scrambles up the slope, laughing in a high pitched voice as he goes. She reaches a hand up to her scorched hair, feeling some of it crumble and fall off as it turns to ash under her fingers. She pulls herself to her feet, and then dodges out the way as Verain leaps at her. Kayton spins, slashing at Verain with her hatchet, but the older girl easily blocks with the sword she has acquired. Knocking Kayton backwards and grabbing the hatchet. She turns on Kayton who is on her feet, arming herself with a rock. Kayton lashes out, but Verain cuts her hand, knocking her over and is about to strike the finishing blow, when an arrow arches, through the sky, cutting Verain's shoulder. The tall blue eyed Career spins, glaring at Lenox, who sniggers at her, vaulting over the mound and fleeing into the dark. Verain gives chase, but Lenox is fast, and it is dark and so she soon loses her. Kayton groans, pulling herself up the slope and rushing away from the cornucopia before another Career spots her.

* * *

Irre's eyes roll as another strike hits his chest. How frustrating. Essence's foot comes out of nowhere, straight into his face, and this move is quickly followed up by a stab attack to the gut, which strikes Irre hard and sends him rolling back. The girl spins on her feet, sending another fist into him followed by a dagger which he narrowly dodges. Why was she doing this, Irre wonders. They were partners. They were partners. Fellow Careers. And that was it, wasn't it? She knew what he could do. He had killed his last partner hadn't he? And now she wanted him dead so that she wasn't at risk. And, as Irre thinks about it, he gets angrier and angrier.

And something in his brain snaps.

He grins and strikes at the blond Career, knocking her off balance. Essence roars and sends another attack at the man, but he blocks it and throws her backwards, before casually drawing a sword from the side and running towards her. Essence blocks the attack and returns in kind, slashing at Irre's leg and sending blood dripping into the water. Irre dodges out the way, bringing the pommel of his sword down hard on Essence's head and bringing a satisfyingly loud cracking sound to the surface.

"_That's got to hurt!"_

"Hahaha! This is real fun, ain't it!" Irre roars, slamming the side of his sword into Essence's face and sending her reeling. He grins widely as she drops, his attacks now full of vigour and not boredom. His hand grabs her neck and he lifts her from the water, before smacking her with the sword again, and dropping her back in the water. His eyes bulge madly and he brings the pommel into her back, causing her to cry out. He laughs, cutting her back lightly, not deep, just enough to bring up some blood. She reaches for his leg, grabbing it and tripping him into the water with him and jamming a small dagger at him, but he twists as he falls, dodging her attack and bringing the side of his sword up and straight into her face. Essence's eyes roll back in her head and she falls unconscious. Irre, laughs, lifting his sword dramatically, ready to bring it down on her neck, sever it.

And then something in his brain snaps and he looks around, bewildered.

"_What on earth is going on here?" _Claudius asks, watching the Career as he looks around in confusion, _"Why doesn't he strike?"_

Scratch shoots forwards, noticing the bleeding girl in his alliance and the tall teen who is standing over her. He roars, tapping of the part of ground he is balancing on and swimming over to her, glad of his speed. He grabs the girls waist, hefting her onto his back and sending a punch into Irre's face, which sends him reeling into the water, blood trickling from his mouth as a tooth dislodges itself. The splash is massive and, if Scratch had had time to look back, he would have been quite amused. He might have even liked a photo of the event.

* * *

Zus groans, reaching for the bow, but the club which Quentin is holding arcs down and slams across his face. Zus growls, slamming a fist into his jaw and sending the other teen reeling as if he has been shot. Quentin comes back to ram his head into Zus and Zus falls back. Demis runs forwards, eager to finish off the competition but, in a wild arc, Quentin knocks the breath out of him and sends him reeling. Quentin grabs Zus, pushing him under the water which now rises to the waists of both boys. Zus croaks, his eyes bulging as Quentin's hands tighten around his throat. The boy opens his mouth, choking on the hot, blood filled water and gagging. Bubbles rise and, above him, Quentin roars with laughter. The bespectacled boy rips him from the waves, before dunking him back in and continuing to roar with laughter.

On the outskirts of the cornucopia, Alew Ferove stands, eyes full of fear as he fends of Jules Radcliffe. The girl grins at him, stabbing with her trident as the boy stumbles away. He shudders, slashing out desperately with the large axe he holds, but she easily dodges it and stabs at him again, intent on the back pack that he is wearing. He groans, looking past the older girl and spotting Zus, who is struggling against the fierce Quentin. Nearby, Kate Ryal clambers up the slope, theatrically blowing a kiss to April and Blake, both of whom had been struggling with her for the back pack she now holds. Now that both are holding weapons, and thus have no further need to be in the cornucopia, scramble up the side of the slope and flee from the cornucopia, soon becoming lost in the dark. Alew gulps, he's spent to much time in the cornucopia! That's bad! He raises the axe, blocking another blow from Jules as he backs up the slope. Jules grins, tackling him to the ground and grabbing for the back pack, but he knocks her over, into the water, which is now up to the two's waists and would be above their heads were they in the middle. Alew turns, ready to scramble away as Jules is fell upon by Arixo, who disarms the girl and takes the sword she has been wearing on her back, hopping away from the area as Jules raises herself to her feet. The twelve year old from District Eight is ready to flee, but then he notices Quentin, holding Zus above the water, long, thin, dagger clasped in his clammy hand. Alew turns. He can't let Zus die! He can't! Then that stupid April girl would be right! And what would she think? He had to help! Alew spins, hurrying towards Zus with a sort of fanatic vigour.

"Get the **** off of me..." Zus splutters, eyes sore from blood and water, body bruised and blood stained.

"Weakling, huh?" Quentin grins, "Loser? Wimp? You're gonna kill me, huh? You? YOU!" He roars, swinging the dagger down.

It all happens very quickly. Firstly, Alew leaps at Quentin, ripping the dagger from the unsuspecting teens fist and slashing his cheek with it, before landing and spinning on his toes, gripped by a rare moment of agility. Quentin screams, clutching his cheek and falling back from Zus, who grabs the longbow and a few arrows and pulls himself to his feet using a nearby spear for support. Demis roars, leaping on the younger boy as Zus turns to fight him and, much to the horror of all who watch, slams the boys head into a protruding knife, sending blood splattering everywhere. Alew screams and Zus spins, looking back down at the Careers. Neither of them are paying to him anymore. The sky is dark and the ash clouds make it difficult to see, so they have probably assumed that he has fled. Alew looks up at Zus, his eyes wide and pleading, his blood slowly ebbing into the water, but, there's nothing Zus can do. Alew's wounds are fatal without expert medical care, and, even if they were not, the pit is filled with Careers, it is impossible to get to the boy.

Demis snarls under his breath, slamming the small boys head into the dagger again, before turning to Quentin.

"Guess you ain't so bad after all, Rapido." He says with a wolfish grin, "Welcome to the alliance!"

Quentin grins widely, taking Demis' hand and shaking it. Finally accepted by his own kind.

"Eh! Tall, pale and ******* clammy! Think fast!" Quentin turns, searching for the source of the voice. Ryaov! He spots the other boy just as the arrow whizzes through the air, slamming into his chest and sending him falling backwards. He twists as he falls. Graceful. Majestic. Almost balletic. And then he lands, face down in the dirt. He struggles, muscles tensing, heart pounding, he grinds his teeth and lifts himself onto his hands and knees.

"I... am... not... WEAK!" Quentin roars, eyes squinting, face contorting with rage. Zus nods, grimacing, as he slinks away from The Cornucopia. He would drink to that.

Quentin pounds the ground with his fists, like a child who has just been caught doing something they shouldn't and has thrown a tantrum. He pulls himself to his feet, bleeding, roaring in defiance.

And then his heart gives out. And he collapses, dead.

Demis shrugs, "Meh, easy come, easy go, I guess." He turns away, watching as his fellow Careers return, before slamming Alew's head onto the dagger again, finally ending his misery. Alew's last thoughts were that he had saved Zus Ryaov and that, when it came to fighting, he was better than he had previously thought, but that his survival skills left a lot to be desired. He collapses in a heap, and Demis takes his backpack, sharing the food out among the Careers, before sitting back to collect themselves, as well as plunder as much as they can from the Cornucopia.

"Sho thish is why they call it a 'Blood Bath'." Blake grins, bending down and picking a pack of bandages out of the water. He opens it, wrapping the long white bandage around his foot and wincing as he puts it down flat.

"_Looks like he won't be doing much running tonight!"_ Claudius quips.

"Wish we'd had this at the baths." Verain chuckles, "It's a real Capitol thing, right?"

Demis rolls his eyes, watching as the other Careers chat, set up camp, even swim in the pool a little. In truth he feels a little sick. He has never been a fan of killing weaklings and starting now just made him feel queasy. Like some sort of monster. He looks down at the small boy floating in the water, with his splintered head and fractured skull, still bleeding slightly from his wounds. He had to kill him. He needed to win and it was best that the weaklings didn't suffer too much. Best to get it over quickly. Besides, if he hadn't fought back who knew what the kid could have done.

"I had to do it." Demis mutters.

"What?" Jules looks up from the huddle of Careers.

"You say something D?" Irre grins.

"The kid. I killed him." Demis mutters.

"An' a mighty fine job ya did too!" Irr guffaws.

"Twelve year old. They're easy to kill." Verain mutters darkly.

"So who did you kill then, Little Miss Victor?" Jules sneers.

"Shaddup." Verain says, grinding her teeth, "I almost had one girl."

"Oh boo hoo."

Demis looks away from them.

He had to do it.

He knew he had to.

Didn't he?

* * *

Later that night, the Careers are camped out on the other side of The Cornucopia, on the other side of the mounds. They don't see Kayton as she scrambles to the waters edge, her hair a mess, her clothes in tatters, burnt and covered with soot from the 'rain'. She reaches down with her hand, grabbing one of the bodies that lies on the edge of the pool, trying to be as quiet as possible for fear of the Careers camped above her. She pulls the body to the bank, screwing up her eyes so that she doesn't look at the dull, staring eyes or the blood covered remains. She takes the large axe out of the boys cold hands and feels it for size. It's not the nicest made and it's too big even for her, but it feels good to be armed. After that she changes, plundering the corpses for their vests and shorts to replace her own tattered and burnt clothes. After all, the dead didn't need them. She looks down, her new clothes fit better than she would have expected, partly on account of her short stature. She looks around, dragging a sopping wet scarf out of the water and wrapping it around her head to hide her hair. She gulps, hearing rustling from above, but nothing comes of it, so rather than stick around, knowing that she is sleeping below a gang of Careers, she turns, dragging herself away from the Bath of Blood until she finds a small cave, in which she curls up and falls asleep. Haunted by the bloated, blood stained face of that little boy.

"_So, we have our first victims. Sorry Alew and Quentin, it looks like you just didn't have what it took to survive in the Arena. It takes guts. Which you obviously have because they went all over the camera, but hey, wrong type." _Claudius grins, as the audiences of Panem laugh.

"_Remember,"_ Caesar takes over, grinning into the camera from his standpoint next to Claudius, _"It's your decision who is going to be staying on for the chance at fame and victory, and who is going to die in unbearable agony. Please send your sponsorships by using the following number."_ The digits flash on the screen.

"_Or go to our website .com to place sponsorship."_

"_Or simply PM or Review to leave sponsorship or send items."_

"_These are scores as follows:"_

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This has been another shameless money advertisement with Claudius Templesmith & Caesar Flickerman!


	16. Surprise!

AN: This chapter shouldn't be as gory as the last few, it's just catching up with the tributes who weren't in The Cornucopia. If you read carefully you may even be able to guess the secrets of the Arena and tell what's coming next.

**And now another thrilling installment of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

Georia skulks on the ground, watching the ash settle on the rocks outside and listening to the cannons outside as they cast their morbid sound over the Arena. In the dark, the girl can make out the shapes of large figures circling The Cornucopia not to far away. Careers. She curls up tighter, clutching her legs to her body and hoping against hope that she didn't know the tributes who had just died. She lay there for a while, welcoming the ash that covers her hair and skin and dyes it as black as the ground on which she lies. She clutches the backpack that she has managed to take from The Cornucopia. Empty.

"_Well of course it would be, she had got it from the mound around The Cornucopia after all!"_ Claudius narrates, _"Poor dear couldn't bear to get too close to the thing. She scampered away as soon as she saw all that water!"_

Georia keeps completely silent as she lies in the mud, trying to keep her breathing under control so that she can't be caught. She watches as the crazy Career from District One passes her, yawning widely as he searches the nearby perimeter of The Careers camp. She gulps back tears. He was going to find her. She just knew it! Why had she stayed so close to The Cornucopia? It had been stupid. She had thought that maybe she could go back and get some weapons after everyone had left, but that was obviously impossible.

"HEY!" Irre roars, the sound of his voice causing Georia to nearly jump out of her skin. "ANYONE WANNA JOIN THE FUN?" Irre grins widely around the area, staring up at Georia through his dark, blue eyes. Georia squeaks under her breath, trying to pull away from where he stands. Irre squints his eyes, screwing up his face and takes a single step forwards. Then his face changes, the horrifying savagery it had had a moment ago morphing slowly into a calmer, more pensive look, his eyes pass over her and he shrugs, turning away from where she hides and marching back to his camp.

"THEY'RE KEEPIN' AWAY FROM US!" Irre roars, "I THINK AFTER YOU KILLED THAT KID THEY GOT THE PICTURE TO STAY 'WAY!"

"Shut up you idiot." A voice mutters, and Irre shrugs, slipping away into the dark. Georia breaths a sigh, lifting her head and looking around to see if there was anything worth taking on the ground.

It was at that very moment that the foot came up and slammed into her face, knocking her off balance and sending her flying into the hard ground. Georia stands shakily to her feet, before a fist flies out of nowhere and sends her reeling, landing on the ground with a thump, she grits her teeth, leaps up and brings her own head up into her attackers stomach, sending her falling back onto the earth. The girl she has just knocked over looks up at her, before spinning to her feet and trying to kick the other girl off of her feet. Georia steps out of the way, but the other girls hand flies out, grabbing her by her soot covered hair and pulling her to the ground. Georia snarls as the newcomer tries to pull the pack off of her. She feels her grip loosen under the grip of the stronger girl and looks around desperately for something to fight with. Suddenly she notices it, lying there on the ground, near her left hand. A sharp, jagged piece of rock. She reaches round and grabs it, grimacing as she feels the bag rested from her. The other girl turns, planning on running, but Georia's hand reaches out and grabs her around the ankle, tripping her to the ground. The other girl struggles to stand, and Georia smiles, climbing onto the other girl and holding her improvised weapon close to her neck.

"Give it back." She hisses, trying her best to sound threatening and self assured.

"Make me." The other girl hisses, flinging her off of her and getting to her feet, "I just lost myself one pack to that Ryal girl and had to hide in a ditch for an hour. You're not beating me today, honey." Georia gives a rage filled shriek, pulling herself back to her feet and running at the taller girl, who blocks with a sword that she has suddenly pulled out from behind her back. "I don't want to kill you." The girl growls under her breath, placing the sword on Georia's neck whilst gripping the smaller girl's wrist in her hand. "But I will if you try to stop me, even if I've only got one sword." She turns and rushes away and Georia snarls, curling her lips and making after the older girl. She has only got a couple of steps, however, when a form shoots out of the dark and grabs her. She stumbles and falls, but the assailants hand catches her, making sure that she doesn't fall too heavily, before pinning her arms back and kneeling on them. A hand grabs her ankle and pulls her leg up, leaving her immobilised.

"What are you doing..." A voice whispers in her ear, "Arixo Varsity... Is too powerful... Chase her... and she'll kill you..." Georia turns her head, looking up at the taller boy as he releases her and lifts her back up to her feet.

"You can't die yet..." Trent smiles, handing her the rock she had been holding, "Kill me if you want... But we need you..." Georia steps away from him, eyes wide, and Trent grins, stepping close to her again, "My preposition of an alliance is still open..." he whispers, his hair falling over his face so that all Georia can see is his mouth, "You tell us about camouflage... I teach you how to hunt... We all survive..." She stares at him for a moment, weighing up her options. Stay here and get killed by Careers or go with him. It doesn't take long for her to decide.

"OK." She smiles, taking the hand he has offered, "But what about Alew." Trent raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Dead..." he shrugs, turning and dragging the girl away from The Cornucopia. Georia doesn't resist. Her legs drag against the ground as he pulls her along at an incredible speed, stones sheer and graze her feet, but she doesn't struggle against him.

Instead she stares straight ahead, lets him show her the cave. Crawls in and curls up, and that night she lies there, petrified, waiting for the knife at her throat that never comes.

That boy had said that Alew was dead.

But she had told Alew to run.

She thought he had run.

He had killed him.

Trent Flee had. He must have.

She lies and waits, watching the boy sitting up at the far side of the cave with suspicion. He never moves. Never twitches. Never shows any indication that he is asleep or awake. Just sits with his hair covering his eyes. She glares at him but he still doesn't seem to notice.

Maybe he really is sleeping, Georia thinks dully as a weird green cloud falls on the Arena and she, along with every other tribute in the Arena, falls fast asleep.

"_Sleepahol! Yes Sleepahol!"_ Claudius grins as the camera pans over the tributes. Some of whom are sleeping in caves, some out in the open. One tribute, Pyro, is floating in the middle of a small pool snoring loudly and Emery Lox and Phillip Sutton have collapsed in a heap, halfway up a rather steep slope. _"Ever had trouble getting a toddler, young child or tribute to sleep. Try Sleepahol! Panem's only child friendly drug to cause instant drowsiness with no 'proven' disastrous consequences!"_

"_Product __may__ cause premature greyness of hair, intestinal distress and/or possible respiratory problems."_

"_That's all for the night guys, so we'll see you tomorrow! And no there are no previews! Wouldn't want to spoil tomorrow's big surprise!"_

* * *

**The next day**

Emery groans, trying to lift her arm. Her whole body is sore and she vaguely remembers that she was climbing a steep slope. Then there was this weird mist. And then she had blacked out.

Had she fallen down the slope? That would certainly explain the bruises. She gives a large yawn. 'It doesn't matter that much does it?' She thinks, 'After all, it doesn't seem to have hurt me too badly, and I'll need to stop worrying about stupid things like this if I want to survive the Hunger Games.'

Her eyes shoot open. The Hunger Games! Of course! She couldn't be lying around. She had to keep her eyes on Phillip, to make sure that he survives. She looks around desperately. Where is Phillip anyway? Surely he can't be too far away.

"Emery?" She hears Phillip's voice from somewhere and looks down to see that she is lying on top of him, meaning that her less than athletic partner is unable to stand to his feet. Well, that explained where Phillip was, but did add about fifteen points to the already dangerously high Awkward Meter. She jumps to her feet, apologising profusely as she helps the boy to his feet. She looks around as she pats the dust out of her hair, and her jaw drops.

"_Tributes! Good morning!"_ Claudius booms over the Arena, his face flashing in the sky, "Wakey, wakey! Sorry about the rude knock out last night, I know how you night owl teens love your late nights! But we had work to do and we didn't want you ruining the surprise!"

Emery stares around her, the sky has changed colour from the dark black grey of the previous night to a warm, rather hot looking orange that has been created by the large, deep red sun that is rising in the distance. But that's not the only problem. Apart from the changed sky the ground has taken on a new and magnificent appearance, with grasses, shrubs and lush tropical plants sprouting from the ground. From the vantage point on which Emery and Phillip stand, they can see out over a nigh impenetrable layer of trees and bushes, among which insects buzz and click.

"_Yeah, we planted a few trees and invited some pets. Thought you'd like it. I mean, I know you were all real fond of that wonderful desert yesterday but, hey, times change. Adapt or die." _The screen cuts out and Emery has a minute to look around before it whirs back into life. _"Sorry, almost forgot to let you know about those tributes who lost out last night."_

Emery looks up as the images of the boys from Districts 5 and 8 flash up on the screen. She smiles, at least it wasn't Phillip. To be honest, she didn't know either of their names. It just didn't matter to her. It didn't matter one bit. She looks round, noticing that Phillip is no longer there and is, in fact, half way up the slope, waving down to her in a kind of teasing fashion. He was in front of her, for once, she thinks and smiles. She turns, rushing up the slope as quickly as her legs will carry her. Well, not for long!

* * *

Down in the valley, Kate stirs, groaning as she tries to knock away the stick that is poking her in the stomach. She turns, rolling over and trying to ignore it, along with that obnoxious, booming in the background. She opens her eyes, seeing Jakob kneeling over her, and jumps to her feet in surprise.

"J-Jakob!" Kate squeaks in surprise, still feeling slightly self-conscious in the rather tight and showy costume she has been made to wear.

"Hi." Jakob smiles, before lifting the tape recorder he has bought in to his mouth and muttering into it, imitating the hushed tones of some famous biologist. "Day 1. Have just found Ms Kate Ryal, my District partner, asleep on the jungle floor. She appears to be carrying a backpack, as well as a bow, but no arrows. My diagnosis is that it would be dangerous to frighten or annoy her in such early hours of the morning. Am presently attempting to discern the most tactful way to inform her that her hair is full of bugs."

Kate screams, leaping to her feet and rubbing her hair madly and dislodging a large colony of fly like creatures, who flutter away, clicking and buzzing in agitation. Jakob smiles, steepling his fingers and grinning over at the girl, his face a picture of innocence.

"What's the matter?" Kate growls, squinting one eye and peering at him, her face full of suspicion.

"What gives you the idea that anything's the matter?" Jakob beams.

"That face." Kate smiles, tapping her nose, "That's not a trustworthy face."

"Yes it is."

"Not on you." Kate growls, "What are you hiding?" Her hand flicks out, ducking behind his back and grabbing at whatever the thing he has been holding behind his back. She looks down at the tattered piece of paper he holds in his hand. It is a simple piece of lined paper with one word written on it.

'Creta...'

"Creta?" Kate asks, perplexed.

"Cretaceous, of course. Well it may not be exactly the right time period." Jakob grins, rather too widely, "But I reckon that we've been placed in the time of dinosaurs."

"Dinosaurs?" Kate shrieks.

"Yeah, y' know, big scaly things. Eat people in those old movies."

"Yes, I know what dinosaurs are! But, how are we supposed to survive against massive dinosaur mutts? What if that gas knocks us all out?"

"I'd guess it would knock them out too." Jakob smiles, watching as Kate stalks off, a worried look on her face. He grins widely, this shouldn't be too hard.

"Muttanation sightings so far." Jakob whispers into his recorder, "Zero. Chance that Ms Ryal will catch on to the plan before day three. Less than zero." He grins widely, turning away and skipping after Kate, in high spirits despite the gravity of the situation.

"_The prankster's happy. That's not good."_ Claudius smiles to the cameras.

* * *

Up in the highest branches of one of the taller trees, far from the jungle floor on which the majority of the other Districts rest, Teagan Cooper hops from tree to tree. Rapido was dead, eh? Well, she guessed that meant one less enemy, although it didn't bode well for her friends, not after what the mayor had said. Teagan looks down. Smiling.

"Good job they put in trees, eh Teagan?" She says to herself, "You're good with trees." Hearing rustling in the undergrowth, she looks down, and sees the pair from District Three snaking their way through the undergrowth. Losers. No one was going to get very far just walking along the ground. Not with all those Careers around, and with no idea what was down there. She suppresses a giggle at their expense, and looks a bit further on to notice April Connolly, who is wading through the dark vines, hacking at them with an improvised machete made of rock and wood. Another loser. The 'machete' she is using is frail and looks easy to break, and she has no idea how close she is to the pair from District Three. Separated by only a few dozen thick trees. Teagan smiles. And this girl is one of the favorites to win outside of The Careers? Pathetic. Teagan looks around a bit more, and after five more minutes of running stops to catch her breath. If only she had gone to The Cornucopia. With these losers around she would have been able to make off with most of the weapons, or at least a bow. She could have been romping around for about an hour now, killing any tribute she came across with a hail of arrows. She had seen at least three. If she had only had something to kill them with back there, Teagan concludes, it would be only to simple to secure victory. She looks around below her, on her right she sees a small pond, not to far off and, on the other side, past a few layers of obscuring trees, lies a small lake, coloured red by the sun, its rocks glinting oddly on the ground. She sees some movement down there. Some sort of animal? Too close for comfort anyway, whatever it is, and Teagan knows she's not alone. It is best to watch her back.

And then she spots it. A bow. Light weight and springy, perfect for shooting. It is lying on the jungle floor, next to the few supplies of Lenox Carter. A tribute only a year older than her, Teagan remembers, and is easily distinguished by her stupid decision to stand in for her sister. Looking out over a few more trees, Teagan can see the other girl washing in a nearby pond, clearly unaware of the tribute above her. Now there is an idiot, Teagan thinks. She isn't even guarding her own stuff. Thinking about it though, Teagan is sure she can take the older girl in a fight, even if they did return.

"_Come to think of it, there are a lot of young tributes this year,"_ Templesmith muses from outside the Arena, _"How many tickets must these idiots be buying? What are they using them as stocking fillers at Christmas?"_

Teagan looks around for a good way to get down, eventually opting for a thick, strong vine that curves its way to the floor, next to where the bow lies. Teagan smiles wolfishly, resembling Demis for a second, before slipping onto the vine and lowering herself, carefully, hesitantly, to the floor. The rope burn starts taking effect almost immediately, and Teagan has to take her time as she descends, being as careful as possible not to go too quickly. She winces as she climbs down willing herself to continue, knowing that a fall from such a height is assured to be fatal. However, this is not the worst of her worries. While the vine looks fine from a first glance, near the jungle floor the vine it is in fact covered in tiny, motion sensitive spikes, which are present on the plant from the ground, to roughly a meter above it. Teagan gives a soft moan as the she feels the spikes push into her hands, grazing her hands and leaving a small drop of blood every time she moves down. She wills herself, once more, to hold onto the vine all the tighter, for fear of letting go otherwise, and breaths a heartfelt sigh of relief when she finally feels her feet touch the ground. She grins, lifting the bow from the ground and slinging it over her back, chuckling to herself at the ease of the steal.

"So." A voice sneers from the forest, "That's where that bow I wanted went, eh?" Teagan stares around, spotting the tall blue eyed Career, Verain Longcast, standing in front of her, eyes tearing hungrily into her as the other female Career, Jules, steps up behind her, trident at the ready. Behind them move three more interested shapes. Large. Stalking closer.

The Careers. God, why didn't she check to make sure that those noises weren't them. She looks through the trees, noticing that, what she had originally assumed was a lake on the left, not to far from where the bow rests, is in fact The Cornucopia, flooded with bloody water that is disguised by the ruby light of the sky, which makes it all appear bloody anyway.

Teagan's face darkens, covered in what can best be described as the greatest 'Oh-Snap' reaction ever. Teagan drops the bow, turns and darts into the undergrowth, pursued by the Career alliance, who duck after her, or simply slam the trees and roots out of the way, eager to secure her death.

Lenox sits in the water on the other side of several rows of trees. She couldn't believe that had worked. She had maybe expected to lure a Career out with the bow, secure a few hits with the dagger she had hidden in her hair and then scarper. She hadn't expected to be able to lure the entire Career alliance away from The Cornucopia.

This time it is Lenox's turn to giggle as she sits back and soaks up the sun. Maybe this will be easier than she had originally thought.

* * *

Near the outskirts of the jungle, and nearly as far away from The Cornucopia where Lenox now sits as it is possible to get in the time they had been given, Hype Tarick sits on a large outcrop of rock, an umbrella gripped in his hand and a large square of jelly clamped inside his mouth. The boy casts his eyes around him, bored as hell. He looks up at his umbrella. It wasn't bought from home, of course. It was home made. The majority of his time the previous night had been spent making it, and it was an umbrella he was incredibly proud of.

"'Ey Murp." Hype mutters, casting his eyes up to the sky, "Wish you were 'ere buddy. You an' me could, like, do real good in the Games together. We'd be like, totally in the Bloodbath, eh man? Real stuck in like. An' we'd a snapped all a their necks back there, eh man?" He laughs bitterly, before shuddering and pulling the umbrella closed. It wasn't raining anymore so he guessed he wouldn't be needing it for a while. You could never be to safe though. "Ya know man." He mutters to his imaginary friend, "That would a been horrible, eh man?" He pulls himself to his feet, turning to leave.

It is at that exact moment that Hype notices the pair of slavering muttanations that have been sneaking up behind him for the past five minutes. They are monstrous creatures. Chicken sized lizards, kitted out with savage claws, long dagger sized fangs and far too many muscles and spiky parts for Hype's liking. He gulps. This isn't good.

He dodges out the way as one of the beasts leaps at him, ducks under the other and turns to flee, but one of them spins around in time, knocking him with its tail and jumping at him. Hype rolls to one side, spotting his error and moving his arm up at the last second, sending the second creatures head into the wall.

'Fight back' a voice says in Hype's head as he dodges yet more rending blows from the large creatures, his body becoming more and more battered as he rolls around on the hard earth.

"I can't man!" Hype complains, "It's against, like, my principles and stuff to hurt another dude."

"_Wait," _Claudius narrates, _"Who is he talking to? Not another crazy."_

'These aren't dudes!' the voice growls, 'they're juvenile muttanations!'

"Really?" Hype grins, "So they're babies? Aww, that's real sweet!" A claw shoots out of nowhere and cuts him across the face. "Okay, maybe it isn't sweet."

'Just kill them!' the voice exclaims.

"But..." Hype opens his mouth to say something, but closes it again as he rolls away from an attack, filling his mouth with dirt in the process.

'DO IT!'

"Okay Murp! Yeesh, man! Like yeesh!" He groans, screwing up his eyes and swinging his umbrella, feeling an unsatisfying crunch as it makes contact with baby muttanation skull. The creature on top of Hype falls off of him, and he is on his feet in a second, umbrella raised above his head, face contorted in rage, staring down at the creature. It spits venom at him, but he dodges effortlessly. It scratches at him with its claws, but he is too fast, spinning on his toes as he brings the heavy wooden umbrella down on its face, shattering its skull. The other creature backs away, tail between its legs, but Hype is too quick for it. He lashes out with his umbrella, catching it with the handle and pulling it towards him. It thrashes at him, cutting at his hands and face and sending blood splashing everywhere, but Hype doesn't relent. He grabs it with a large hand, breaking neck with a single flick of his wrist and slamming the lifeless corpse down onto the hard earth. Hype stands where he is. Shaking slightly. His large hands dripping with blood, both his own and his victims, and he stares around, wild eyed. He leans down, scooping up the jelly cube that he had discarded and gulping it down. Sure it is dirty. Sure it is covered in blood. But that is why it tastes so good now.

"_Wow!"_ Claudius roars, _"Wow! Who knew that jelly cube munching hippies could be so EPIC?"_

"Hype..." The voice comes from behind him, and Hype spins around, slamming the other boy in the face with the umbrella and knocking him to the ground. He grins widely, teeth stained green with jelly, and takes a step towards the long haired dreamer who is lying beneath him.

"Hype... It's me..." the boy, Trent, groans, trying to pull himself to his feet. Hype simply laughs, swinging the umbrella round and bludgeoning Trent in the face.

"Hype... the alliance..." Trent says. It is impossible to tell whether or not he is scared. There is no emotion in the boys voice, and he says the sentence as if he is reading it off a script.

"Sorry." Hype shrugs, lifting the umbrella to cause dramatic effect, "Part of the job."

"_Kill him!" _Claudius grins in the HGTV box.

Kill him? Hype smiles. Good idea. Sounds fun.

'Kill him!' the voice of Murp roars inside Hype's head.

Really fun.

"Stop..." Trent groans, sounding only mildly aggravated by the whole situation.

"Are you kidding, man?" Hype grins lopsidedly, "I haven't had this much fun since..."

Since that day Murp had died.

Hype whines, the voices fading from his head, and drops the umbrella to the ground. Trent looks around, quickly assessing the situation and deciding on the most logical course of action.

The decision isn't hard.

Trent's fist flies round and smashes into Hype's jaw, knocking him out.

"There... Payback..." Trent smiles, motioning to Georia who scurries out from where she has been hiding. The two lift the unconscious teen, Georia lifting the legs and Trent the shoulders and begin to drag him, rather unceremoniously, up the path.

"Where are we going?" Georia asks, wide eyed and nervous after the terrifying acts that their 'new team mate' as Trent calls him, has just committed.

"To find the boss..." Trent shrugs, carrying on.

"You're not the boss?"

"No... As a matter a fact Ms Roys of District Seven is..."

"What, the short girl who keeps going on about the mayor?"

"Yea... She doesn't know she's the boss yet... But she will..."


	17. Day 1: Morning

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 1**

"I keep telling you, I'm a walker, not a runner!" Phillip gasps as he stumbles through the trees, one hand holding on to Emery's arm, the other clutching his side, as a stitch cuts through it.

"And I keep telling you, I don't give a damn!" Emery grins, effortlessly leaping over the fallen branches and roots, dragging her partner along behind her. "God, you are such a load." She jibes, as the boy falls at yet another hurdle, and she has to pull him back onto his feet, "We've only been running for ten minutes!"

"Yeah." Phillip grunts, pain evident in his face as he trips to the floor again, "Worst ten minutes of my life."

"Don't be so melodramatic!" Emery goads, "I bet you felt far worse when you found out you were going to be in the Games."

"Nah." Phillip smiles, looking up at Emery as she helps him to his feet, "When I heard you were gonna be in that Arena, I knew you were gonna be with some psycho, like one of those Morphling addicts you find down in the slums, or some loser, like me or the Divon triplets. So I thought it was best you were with a loser, like me. I would have volunteered anyway. You see, Emery, I... kinda like you."

"_Well."_ Claudius simpers from the studio where he watches, _"That's certainly sweet! And... unexpected. Ah well, if the rest of his chat up lines are as good as 'I'm willing to kill myself just to be near you,' he should have a date in no time!"_

"You're not serious!" Emery laughs, as he dusts himself off.

"I am." Phillip reassures her, his face set in stone. Emery looks down at him, her eyes connecting with his eyes, and smiles warmly.

Then she slaps him round the face, knocking him to the ground.

"You're an idiot, Phillip Sutton!" She roars, glaring down at him as he gets back up, for about the fiftieth time that day.

"And you're a Blockhead, Emeria Lox." Phillip smiles, obviously pleased to have, yet again, made a joke that the female ninja doesn't understand.

"_Ooh." _Claudius interjects, _"Referencing. Haven't seen that before."_

Emery turns away from Phillip and begins to walk away, disgusted. "Don't make jokes like that! It's bad enough being trapped in some jungle without you coming up with jokes that make me feel worse about being here and pretending to make gooey eyes at me to try and boost the damn rating in Panem!"

"_Curses. Foiled again."_ Claudius roars dramatically, causing the crowd to burst into hysterics.

"No." Phillip snarls, amazed that she isn't getting it, he grabs her shoulder and spins her around, "It's not a lie. I would have volunteered!" He stares at her. And she stares back. And he stares at her some more. And then she punches him.

"_Finally!" _Claudius roars, _"Could this be a new Katniss and Peeta!"_

"Yeah right." Emery grins widely, showing off her teeth and helping Phillip to his feet again and patting him on the back, "Tell you what Mr Inappropriate, you find some way for both of us to win, and you've got yourself a date."

"Really." Phillip smiles, his stitch suddenly cured as he trots along behind her.

"Sure." Emery giggles, taking his hand and flipping her hair to the side to hide the fact that she is blushing as much as he is. "At Panem's classiest restaurant if you win."

"_And we can telivise the whole thing!" _Claudius announces, spreading his hands wide._ "I can picture it now! He's a clever, emotional son of a doctor who always says what's in his heart and can't run for toffee, she's an overly violent, circus performing ninja who solves her problems with her fists in a world she never made, they fight crime... I mean they fight for survival! Now all they need to do is win, go crazy, take over Panem for fifteen years and get killed and they really will be the next Katniss and Peeta!"_

"Well." Phillip says, running a hand through his hair as he tries to imagine Panem's classiest restaurant "I suppose we'll just have to win at any cost then!"

Emery can't suppress a laugh "Wasn't that already the plan?"

And then the pair turn the corner. And their plan goes up in smoke.

"_Ah bugger."_ Claudius mutters.

* * *

Kayton shudders as she lies on the cold hard earth, listening to the noise outside. The shouts of tributes. The roar of animals. The reckless boom set off by yet another cannon firing.

Maybe if she just lies here they'll forget about her, she thinks. She can just lie in this cave for however long the Games draw out, listening to the shrieks and screams. She pulls the rug someone has sent her tighter around herself, trying to get some sleep.

"_No one has even come close to finding Ms Roys yet!"_ Claudius grins from on high, _"Looks like she's taking a nap! Come on Tributes, pick up the pace! That's more like it!" _

Kayton twists and turns for what seems like hours as she tries to get comfortable, forcing the images of that dead boy out of her head. The one who had got excited at the interviews. The one who had never stopped talking. The first among their number who had to die. The one whose vest she had been forced to take to replace her own, which had been burnt and ruined by Pyro. Kayton winces as one of the smaller burns on her leg pops. Her brother, Laken, had taught her how to make a burn salve out of the sap of certain mountain dwelling trees and, a couple of hours ago, that is exactly what she had done. Watching from her cave, she had seen one and had crawled out, avoiding the eyes of the other tributes. She had ripped the bark off with her teeth, scratched away at the wood leaves and stalks until she felt sap on her fingers. It had taken half an hour to create 5 milliliters of the stuff. But the relief the salve gives is mediocre at best and, if it is reducing the amount of burns that cover the girl from Seven, she cannot feel it. It has not been worth it. She sighs and turns her mind back to the dead body of the boy. His eyes wide, his skull splintered and fractured like a shattered nut. His hands screwed up in defiance, accepting his fate. So small. So young.

He should have run. Come to think of it, she should have run. If she hadn't been attacked by Pyro, she would have ran. This is Pyro's fault. It is all...

A hand touches her neck.

Kayton reels, stumbling away and spinning on her heels in order to face her attackers. Were they Careers? She should have known not to hide so close to the Cornucopia. It was just asking for trouble. Kayton smiles and clenches her fists. They think she's weak don't they? A little thirteen year old girl. They think she can't survive. But this is the girl who has lived her entire life on her own. She never had any help from her mother, and even when her father was alive he hadn't tried much. He had thought it was best to solve your own problems. 4812 days, that's how long she's been fighting. 13 and a bit years. And she's not giving up now. Not when she needs to rely on herself the most. She'll fight them all the way. Just like she fought her mother. Kayton flicks out her hand, slamming it into the face of the first assailant and sending him reeling.

"I will survive." She growls deeply.

"Why... Do people insist on doing that..." the tall, messy haired boy groans from the floor, pulling himself to his feet and dusting himself off as best he can. Behind him, Kayton notices her other two 'assailants'. A pale girl with long white hair who she remembers was the partner of the dead boy and the tall hippy guy from District Twelve, still munching absentmindedly on a jelly cube and muttering about 'Murpman', who Kayton presumes is some kind of superhero character in District Twelve, although she dreads to think what a 'Murp' might be. She decides it is some sort of frog and continues to stare at the three tributes in front of her. She is the youngest and, by far, the shortest of the tributes that now occupy the cave. Kayton, racks her brains, thinking back, she seems to remember something about an alliance from training sessions, and is more than ready to stick by it if it will keep her alive. Now if only she knew who was in charge of it. It was normally their job to protect the younger tributes so it looked like she would have to stick close to whichever of the boys was leading.

"Morning... Boss..." Trent smiles, bowing low and looking up at her through his hair. "I bought... the others..." Kayton's mouth runs dry as he says the words. Did he just say she is in charge. But that couldn't be possible. She turns, blanching and trotting away from these crazy people. Before she can escape through the back of the cave, however, her path is blocked by Trent, who bends down and whispers in her ear, so quietly she can hardly hear the words he is saying.

"Listen..." He mutters, "You know which alliance we are... We're the losers alliance... We're the people who no one else wanted... The dregs... the drips... That's why you're leading us..."

"I-I don't understand." Kayton mutters back, her eyes on the pale girl in the corner of the cave, who she is sure is listening in on the conversation, "Why me."

"Hype..." Trent points him out with a finger of one hand, "Is an excellent fighter... Georia..." he raises his other hand and points it at the albino, "Is a master of camouflage... I am a tactician... I can not lead... but I am clever..."

"So-"

"That's where you come in... You... Kayton Roys... are a survivor... and a natural born leader... even if you are only young... Tell them what I tell you... You don't need to understand... You are simply my mouthpiece..." Kayton glares at him for a second. He doesn't look trustworthy. Nothing about him seems to reek of anything but manipulation and deviousness. But if she was in charge of an alliance she could make sure that he didn't trick her, and the others in the alliance are all older than her, she reminds herself. She smiles, that's good.

"_Looks like a great opportunity to boss your elders around, eh Kayton?" _Claudius booms, watching the cameras as Kayton shakes hands with the slouching sixteen year old. Over in the corner of the cave, Georia scrutinises Kayton, wary of their new 'leader'.

"She's just a kid." Georia muses.

"Like, ain't we all man." Hype laughs, taking another chomp out of his jelly, "Man, I hope that sponsor dude who sent me this sends, like, a whole pack or something."

"_You heard him folks! Just send in your sponsorship and your tribute could win!"_ Claudius announces, his face lighting up into an unmistakable 'give me money' look. Beneath him a large sign flashes the words 'SPONSOR NOW' and in small print '5 cents for the first minute, 7 cents for each additional minute.' "_Anyway, back to Georia!"_

"No, no." Georia groans, looking slightly more sullen than usual, "I don't mean a kid like me or you. I mean an actual kid. She's, like, thirteen or something. I mean, she's not even a proper teenager yet!"

"Man, girl are you, like, ever starting to sound like me?"

"Sorry?" Georia raises an eyebrow, unsure at what the taller boy has just said. She peers at Kayton and suddenly gasps, backing away.

"What's a matter Ge'?" Hype grins at her, proving himself to be not just an expert at remembering names, but also an expert at butchering them.

"Th-th-that girl!" Georia squeaks, hiding behind Hype, "Sh-she's wearing Alew's clothes!"

"Ah, man! That's, like, really wrong! I mean, how in the holy hell would she, like... I mean, dude, how would... How do you even know that, man? I got, like, weird vibes in the cranium now, man! Like it's all messed up with crazy stuff that's, like, really not right, man! Sort it out!" Georia stares at him and he shuts up, mesmerised by her dark, and admittedly creepy, eyes.

"She's Trent's boss." Georia growls darkly, "So she must be in on killing Alew."

"Y'think?" Hype asks shuffling closer to her, fear in his eyes.

"Yeah. And now they're gonna try and kill us." Georia whispers, as the two tributes push themselves closer to the wall, terrified, but trying to pretend that they are fine, in case either Trent or Kayton look their way.

Hype gulps as the voice inside his head tells him what he already knows. 'They can't kill you if their dead, Hype.' The voice sneers and Hype's mouth runs dry.

* * *

Pyro grits his teeth. Sweat rolls down his arms as veins bulge and his entire body strains against the weight that threatens to crush him.

"How the heck did I manage to get here." He asks himself. This is, in fact, a very good question. After all it is not every day that a peaceful snooze in a calm pool of water ends with you being attacked by a dinosaur mutt and three Fish mutts. It wasn't exactly a usual occurrence for him and he wasn't really sure how to deal with it. So he had just decided to beat the answers out of these new arrivals.

"Ah well, that's just what happens when you don't keep your eye on the ball." Pyro laughs to himself as he scoops one of the head sized Fish out of the water, spinning it into the dinosaur even as the Fish quickly grows legs and lungs to adapt to its new surroundings. Pyro stares at it. "Now that's just gross." He wretches, spinning the 'Fish' and flinging it into a nearby tree. He watches with interest as it flips back to its feet and scuttles towards him and he quickly turns, seeking refuge in the trees. The dinosaur mutt is too fast for him, however, and rushes past him, smacking him in the face with its tail and pushing him to the ground. Pyro groans, it was stuff like this that told you that today wasn't going to be a good day. He smiles up at the beast, which is staring down at him through beady, possibly hate filled, eyes. Or at least, he assumes that they are hate filled, or maybe the monster is just hungry. Either way, Pyro decides, is not good for him. Pyro reaches down, ripping a tuft of grass from out of the ground and setting it on fire before throwing the burning turf into the eyes of the creature. Pyro laughs, watching with glee as it stumbles backwards, howling in pain, and quickly brings his foot into its stomach, sending the beast sprawling into the pond. He takes a step back and looks at his handy work. The three Fish things are still alive (one of them appears to be gnawing at his leg) and that little girl from District Five has just burst into the clearing, followed by Careers and is making a grab for his back pack.

"It just ain't my day." Pyro growls, lifting his hand axe of the ground and, as an after thought,pulling off the creature that has been eating his leg.

"_For those who care to know, the 'Fish' are in fact a new strain of Muttanation."_ Caesar Flickerman gushes, having just finished a long conversation with one of the Games Makers, _"They are apparently designed to rapidly evolve and will really revolutionise the industry!"_

Back in the Arena, Pyro steps towards the little girl, who balks upon seeing him, stopping in her tracks and back pedaling like mad, she ducks and weaves under the Careers, who are busy fighting Muttanations, and scurries into the trees. An arrow whizzes through the air, slamming into the girl's leg and cutting straight through soft flesh, pinning her to the bark, where she hangs, defenceless. Pyro grins, loosening his grip on the Fish in his hand, which he had been intending to crush, and turning to the Careers, one of whom, a little girl from Four, is trying to climb the tree that the girl from Five is in, lashing out with her trident at the girl in the tree and making her shriek with terror.

"Poor girly." Pyro murmurs, pulling his arm back and rushing at the Careers, "Hey! Four! Think fast!"

Jules realises he is talking to her too late, having just enough time to turn her head slightly before the Fish hits her square in the face, sending her falling from the tree, into the ground. The other Careers roar with indignation (with the exception of Irre who instead roars with laughter) and attention is quickly turned to the ir attacker, Pyro. By this time, however, the hulking bear of a seventeen year old is gone, having somehow set fire to the trees that had blocked his way and disappeared into them. The other Careers look down at Jules, who lies on the floor, battered and bleeding, and then at one another. Demis grunts, pushing past them and hefting Jules onto his shoulders.

"Bandages!" Demis roars, "Anyone got any bandages?"

"They're b-b-back at b-base shir!" Blake chirps, nodding his head furiously.

"We're heading back." Demis growls, eyes hard and unfeeling.

"What! When we're this close to another kill?" Verain pouts, furious. Demis roars, raising his fist, and Irre shakes his head, a seemingly involuntary spasm shooting through his body as he draws a knife. Irre stteps closer to the tall girl, waving the knife in front of Verain's face.

"Never leave a man behind." Irre smiles, looking at Jules, eyes much softer than they usually are. Verain looks at him. He's brandishing a knife at her, is he? Well, she can take him. Easy.

"Yeah right." Verain chuckles, "Like you two could take me in a fight." She backs of anyway, placing her hands on her hips and glaring at the men in her alliance. Demis smiles, turning to the girl in the tree and regarding her with emotionless eyes.

"You're a lucky girl." He growls at Teagan, "Guys, back to base, we got injured."

Jules glares at the girl of District Five through blood stained hair, and Verain sends one last arrow, deeply cutting Teagan's arm, before running off into the trees, hissing curses.

* * *

A bit further down in the jungle, deeper than they have any right to be, scurry Scratch Standards and Essence Craymaker, tributes of Districts Eleven and One respectively and, for the time being at least, team mates.

"Why did you save me?" Essence shouts after Scratch, finally having built up enough courage to ask the question that has been on her mind for some time.

"Do you really think this is the best time?" Scratch growls, dodging yet another round of explosive darts, which go sailing past his ear and dully rip a tree to his left into shreds. "Where the hell do those Games Makers get ideas like this? What are they? Psycho's?"

"Stop tugging at my arm! You're running too fast! I can't keep up!" Essence shouts, indignant. She wishes that she had stayed with the Career alliance. Then she wouldn't be stumbling over branches and shrubs following some brainless pretty boy as they run deeper and deeper into the jungle.

"Geez! Sorry! You looked like you were in trouble!" Scratch growls, offended "I didn't think you would be so averse to being saved!" He leaps over another branch, falling into the mud with an all mighty wallop and dragging Essence down along with him. She hits the ground and rolls to one side, dodging another set of darts before looking out of the undergrowth where they now hide. Scratch gawks as the large, lizard-like Muttanation that has been following them sails past, crashing into the pair of tributes coming the other way.

"That's the pair from Six!" Scratch whispers, and Essence nods, her Career instincts kicking in. The red headed girl at the front of the pair sees the beast, trying to dodge the attacks that fly at her, but is caught in the foot for her troubles, sent flying back into a tree and leaping to her feet. The boy behind her is not so lucky, being hit in the side of the chest by a blast and falling back unmoving, into the ground. Blood splatters everywhere and the girl from District Six gasps, staring in horror at the gaping wound in the boys side. Silent for a minute. And then it is all noise. Essence grimaces, watching from behind the bush as the girl screams her partners name, running to him, as the creature (momentarily out of darts) gnashes at her with its teeth, catching her hair and pulling her to the ground.

"PHILLIP!" Emery screams, turning and throwing a rock at the creature. Despite the fact the thing is hit in the eye, it barely reacts, its pair of clear eyelids making a perfect screen against projectiles. Emery screams out Phillip's name again, begging him not to be dead. Not now! Not him! She reaches up to her hair, cutting through it with another sharp rock before scrambling towards Phillip on her hands and knees, tears in her eyes. Not Phillip! Not him! It couldn't be him. Not now! Not after he'd just... She reaches his limp form, wrapping her arms around it even as the large creatures tongues wraps around her waist and begins to drag her towards its mouth. Emery cries out in sorrow and anger, slashing out with her hand and cutting its tongue off, achieving vengeance. It howls, unable once again to spit darts.

"_The 'explosive darts' are a byproduct of this particular creatures digestion._" Claudius informs the crowd, who are immediately sickened when next he speaks. _"It's therefore kind of like projectile vomiting at the enemy, and so it can't shoot if it's pooped out."_

"_Best not to hard about that last line kids." _Caesar informs the audience, _"In fact, just forget he ever said that!"_

Back on the Arena floor Essence watches as the girl squirms and shrieks for her friend. For help. For anything. She tightens her hand around the knife and goes to leap over.

"You can't!" Scratch roars, holding her back, "That thing'll kill you! You'll never kill it!"

"Who said," Essence smiles slightly, her frame twitching as her Career impulses kick in, "I was going to kill them?" Scratch stares at her for a second, and then his mouth falls open.

"You can't." He hisses, grabbing her ankle as she goes to dart through the bush again.

"Why?" She asks him, "They aren't going to live anyway if that thing keeps at it and if they die it'll be two less tributes for us to worry about."

"But that's..."

"We'll be doing ourselves, and them, a favour." Essence growls as she tries to pull away, but Scratch is still holding on to her ankle.

"Don't! You can't kill them!" He roars.

"Why not?" Essence glares back, kicking his hand with her feet, but he holds on.

"Because you're too much like my sis." Scratch groans. "I can't watch you kill someone. It'd be like watching her kill someone, y'know. And I wouldn't ever recover from that. We need to be able to rely on our family, without them we go crazy, y'know. And right now you're the only person sticking by me, and you're too much like her." He smiles wistfully, "Too much like Lourta. I don't want to see you kill no one."

"Don't worry." Essence smiles sweetly as he releases her leg and gives a girlish giggle. Then, as slowly as she can, she bends down and kisses him on the forehead, trying to hide her eagerness to do so. "You won't see me kill anyone."

There is something in the way she said 'you' that Scratch almost missed. Something odd. Fortunately for him he didn't miss it, and his ears caught it as soon as she spoke the word. He whips his hand out to grab her. Unfortunately for Scratch, he is not exactly the fastest guy when it comes to blocks and her hand sails through the air, colliding with his head and knocking him unconscious.

"Sorry handsome." Essence grins as she steps over him, pouncing on the distracted Muttanation, "But Brother-Sister relationships ain't good enough for me." She whoops as she scurries across the large Muttanation's. Now that she is on its back it is a lot easier to deal with. She is easily able to find weak points in its scales and exploit them, stabbing and slashing, opening the pack of darts she had managed to pull from The Cornucopia and stabbing it with those.

Of course it helps when the beast walks into a Games Makers trap and its head explodes as a jet of magma (evidently spare from the previous night) bursts to the surface, but it is still mostly her work. The magma blisters her face, drying her tongue and scalding her feet, and so she quickly hops of the beast, turning to the Emery, a cheery smile on her face. The other girl is still grieving over the limp form of her friend, who is forcing ragged breaths through his mouth and coughing, but otherwise seems to be OK. Essence groans. If there is one thing she cannot stand it is pretty girls who get worked up over the littlest things.

"He's just unconscious." She growls, "He'll be better by tomorrow, tops."

"He- he's not!" Emery shrieks, "He's going to need medicine, she gulps, searching through the various leaves and shrubs that Phillip has been collecting on his belt as they have been running. She reaches for a large leaf, wrapping it around the wound on Phillip's side. At least that wasn't fatal, not if the blood didn't have a chance to flow. Next she takes some sort of herb, grinding it up with her teeth and drying it on her top before feeding it to Phillip. She glares up at Essence.

"Come on!" The shorter girl barks, "Help!"

"No." Essence states the word, quite surely.

"But you saved us!"

"I saved myself." Essence mutters, letting a tear roll down her face as she steps towards the girl, raising her dart. "But look at your leg." She points at the bloody mess that is Essence's foot. "And your friend's chest. You can't win this even if I let you go. Better I kill you than Irre or some psycho like him."

And Emery recognises her then.

"You're that Career girl!" She squeaks, pushing herself up against the tree as she cradles the spluttering boys head. "The one with the crazy district partner!"

"I'm just trying to help." The Career throws a dart, knocking Emery's shaking hands away from Phillip. Her hand shoots out again, sending several darts spinning into Emery's top and pinning her to the tree. Emery struggles to be free of her bonds, but Essence is too fast, and quickly sends a dart into Emery's hand, quickly adding to the amount of tears rolling down Emery's face.

"Get away from him!" Emery shrieks as Essence passes by Phillip. The boy's eyes follow her, and he tries to stand, but she easily knocks him back onto the ground. Essence winces as a cracking sound rings out from Phillip's head.

"Stop it!" Emery screams, trying to move her arms from the position as Essence approaches. Essence groans, walking up to the struggling girl and gripping her chin, lifting her to her feet,

"Really? You think either of you can survive in this state? I'm going to stop your pain." She smiles sadly, drawing back the knife. It takes her a second to realise that someone is standing behind her, and there is a claw trained on her neck.

"Demis?" Essence squeaks, and she pales. "I'm sorry I..." The girl gaspes wincing as the claw sinks into her neck. Emery watches, wide eyed, as the girl falls back, bleeding heavily. The lights have gone out in her eyes and a look of sheer terror covers her face. Essence was the same age as Emery, and much taller than the other girl, but now she looks far younger, far smaller and even more beautiful without the look of mad pity stretched onto her face like a bad skin graft. Essence's body falls to the floor, her head rolls in the other direction, before settling face up, its blue eyes wide and pleading, its blond hair splayed out like a golden halo.

"Not quite Demis." The tall, slightly wide, figure of Alylla snorts, stowing her claws on the side of her pack and stepping back. "Good try though." She kicks the Careers body and then turns and runs into the undergrowth, as though she has not noticed the other tributes. Or maybe she has assumed they are dead. Emery gasps, realising only now that she has been holding her breath, and crawls over to Phillip, beginning to tend to his wounds. Soothing him through tears and medicines.

She doesn't notice the lanky teen, unconscious behind a nearby bush, but Claudius and Caesar do have a laugh about the crazy guy from District Eleven being knocked out by his 'little sis'.

No one notices the archer. The one who has been hiding in a tree, aiming their bow at Essence, waiting for a chance to strike. The sniper swears, cursing Alylla Stone with all the curse words he knows (the list is quite extensive and carries on for ten minutes) before morphing back into the trees.

Arcticmist: 75

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 30

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 45 + medium pack

Ereader64: 50

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 60

Ginny Weasley23: 80

Narcissa Weasly: 90

HelloPoppet123: 30 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 15 + claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 50

seagreenbeauty: 10

skgirl4ever: 60

wildone97: 00 +Large pack

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 40

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 20

**Don't forget to sponsor!**


	18. Day 1: Off the Deep End

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 1**

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, Lenox Carter, you are a genius!" Lenox chuckles to herself as she stuffs her large pack with possessions. Anything at all that she can find around the Cornucopia is stashed away. Bandages, beef jerky, a sleeping bag, fever pills, anything that she can find without diving into the bloody waters. She smiles widely as she chews on a pack of dried fruit and sits back, feeling the wind ruffle through her hair.

It, of course, never occurs to her that someone else might come down to the Cornucopia while the Careers are away.

"What are you doing here?" A gruff voice sounds from behind her, and Lenox spins, finding herself face to face with April Connolly. Lenox gulps and takes a hesitant step forward, putting on her prettiest face as she addresses the other girl.

"Hi... err... April, right? Umm... I-I was just here to... err... collect this pack, which my sponsors have kindly... err... very kindly given me." She smiles as widely as she can swinging the pack out for the girl to see. April frowns, somehow looking more intimidating than Lenox could think possible despite being quite a bit shorter than her. April snarls, showing her teeth and grabs the pack with a single muscular hand, eyes dark and hard as stone. It only takes a flick of her wrist for April to send Lenox tumbling off, and April sneers, whipping the bag away and throwing it callously over one shoulder. Lenox screeches at April as the short, ginger haired girl turns to leave, grabbing the strap of the bag and wrenching it back, knocking the April off balance and tripping her to the ground. April growls up at her, showing yet more of her sharp teeth, before spinning her leg around and into Lenox's head, bringing Lenox to the floor along with her. Lenox stares at the girl, it is true that, up close, Lenox has never been a good fighter, and this girl looks like she knows her stuff. Lenox whips her arm around, elbowing the other girl in the face, causing her to cry out and fall back. She then wrenches the bag off of April and scurries off on her hands and knees, struggling under the weight of the sack and looking back at the other girl to make sure she didn't follow.

Which means that she doesn't notice the Cornucopia until she falls straight into it.

"_And that's why you always keep your eyes on the ground in the Hunger Games!"_

April stares down at Lenox, a small smile playing on her face. She bends down to pick up the pack and Lenox growls, shooting out her arm and grabbing the girl around the leg. April gasps, flailing as she falls into the bloody mass of water in front of her. April splutters as she hits the water, her arms wild as she gulps in water. Lenox rolls her eyes, tossing her black hair in such a way that it purposefully smacks April across the face. That'd teach her. April yelps, before turning to Lenox and grabbing her around the neck. Lenox's eyes bulge as April tightens her grip, pushing the taller girl down, ever so slowly, into the water.

"Think it's funny that I almost drowned, huh?" April snarls, speaking as slowly as she can. Emphasising every word. Drawing it out. Watching with some satisfaction as the dark girl gasps for breath, eyes wider than ever, hands clasping at her neck.

This girl is trying to kill her.

Well she's not going down easy.

Lenox releases April's arms, which she had been trying to tear off, and instead clasps her hands around April's own neck, choking her, watching as the other girl's face screws up into a look of unbelievable hatred. She grits her own teeth, flicking her wet hair out of her eyes so as to better see April's face. This isn't a battle of skill anymore. It's not about who can run faster. It's not about who is better looking, taller or more heavily muscled. It is not even about who has the better weapons anymore (although feeling the bow and arrows still on her back does make Lenox feel better, and the axe on April's belt would be a serious problem if she were to remember she has it). No, this is a waiting game, plain and simple. A battle of patience and defiance. And she can't afford to lose it.

She grits her teeth and prepares to pull April under the water, so that any sense of skill can be literally drowned out of their struggle.

And then she hears it. Clattering through the bushes, breaking branches off trees and hurling them away, sending animals scurrying away from it. Spreading madness in its wake. Laughing all the while.

And worse than that, she knows the madnesses name.

Pyro.

The hulking figure sneers around the forest, spotting the gore filled Cornucopia and giggling softly to himself. Who needs a plan anyway. Running headlong through this jungle has worked for him just fine and, judging by the amount of cannons he's heard recently, planning isn't going that well for the other tributes. He stares down at the water, there's something odd about it, something familiar. He almost doesn't drink it but, then again, it is the only water he's likely to find today, save for that puddle he fell asleep in and that crystal clear lake a few hundred meters back, and Lord knows Pyro doesn't feel like running a few hundred meters to get his water. He looks back at the lake one last time, and the pretty fire he has set off around it.

"Thought I saw some chick bathing in there too," he growls, causing Lenox (who had in fact been washing her knees in the lake at the time) to blush despite the situation "God," Pyro groans as he bends down, running his hand through the gore filled water, "How sick would it be to drink something that some chick had gone swimming in."

"_Yes."_ Claudius groans, watching with some disdain as Pyro drinks the water, _"I can't imagine."_

Lenox shivers and slowly releases April's neck, the other girl does the same, and Lenox backs away, as the other girl reaches for the axe at her belt.

"Are you crazy?" Lenox whispers, "That Pyro kid's massive."

"You know what they say about the bigger they come, right?" April grins twisting the axe around in her hands and swimming slowly, and tremendously awkwardly, towards the large boy, whose head is currently dunked into the water, gulping it up like some demented bear. Lenox reaches out her hand, grabbing April's wrist and stopping her from swimming and spinning her round to face her. She is only mildly surprised when the other girl doesn't try to chop her hand off.

"That's the guy who nearly killed his own partner twice before the Hunger Games had even started!" Lenox mutters frantically, "Look, he's already set, like, half of the jungle on fire, and he's only been here for less than a day. He's possibly the only guy in this whole Arena crazier than that District One Career and, if we're not careful, he can probably kill either one of us!"

"So what's your plan, Little-Miss-Pessimist?"

"Run. I've got friends who can deal with him, and I doubt he can catch either of us if we run fast enough. But we have to work together." She smiles at April, hoping that he other girl has forgotten their 'little tiff' of a few seconds before.

"How do I know I can trust you?" April growls.

"Same to you." Lenox smiles, running a hand through her curly hair, "Believe me, girl, if I didn't think that there was something in this for me, I would have run already."

"I'd say 'I don't like you and you don't like me'," April groans, rubbing her neck, "But I think it would be unnecessary."

"So, It's a deal?"

"For now." April snarls, sparing a worried look at Pyro, who is rummaging through the food rations, setting stuff on fire.

"Great! Now give me back the pack." Lenox smiles, before staring at April, who shakes her head and points down. Lenox follows her eyes, staring down at the pack, which has sunk, and is hanging from a jutting sword, threatening to fall off.

"Ah God." Lenox growls, rolling her eyes and taking a deep breath, before diving under the waves.

The water is definitely different. It is too warm for a start and Lenox can taste the blood. Despite how diluted the blood is, it still pushes in around her, as though magnetised to her, pushing her up, making it difficult to swim. It fills all her senses, clinging to her ears and the inside of her nose. Caressing her skin. Stinging her eyes shut and dancing all around her face. Clogging her pores. But that's not just it, she tastes the water again. There's something behind the taste of iron. Something, sweet, syrupy that sets her off guard. Making her almost want to stay down there forever.

"_Glad that isn't me."_ Claudius interjects, smiling deviously at the audience as the cameras switch to 'underwater cam'.

Lenox swims further and further down under the waves, her legs and arms bruising on the walls of the Cornucopia. She reaches out for the sword when, suddenly, something catches her thigh. Lenox grits her teeth, thrashing at the water as a sword cuts into her leg, spilling more blood into an already unnecessarily bloody setting. She kicks her leg to try and free it but, somewhat unfortunately, just seems to get it more and more entangled in between two more sharp objects, cutting it over and over again and causing her to cry out, wasting valuable oxygen in doing so. Salty tears roll down her face, mixing with the bloody water and dribbling into her mouth, making her feel rather giddy. She stretches out as far as she can, her entire body screaming as the swords scrape against one leg and the other frantically batters the side of the Cornucopia.

"_Oh I can't watch!"_ Claudius shouts, covering his eyes with his sleeve.

Lenox feels the bag under her hand. She grins weakly, stretching out, closing her fist around it and tugging. It doesn't come loose.

And that's when Lenox panics. Kicking thrashing and screaming she gulps up water, the swords and various other weapons that lie around her cutting her all over, making her thrash even more. Bubbles rise to the surface as she tugs frantically at the bag. She can't die down here, Lenox thinks. Not here. Surrounded by boxes of food and water, weapons and blood. She struggles to breath, struggles to be free, struggles to have the bag. But she doesn't. She looks up, vaguely aware of a shape surging towards her. Something massive. And then she loses consciousness.

* * *

Jules sits on the mat, groaning as Demis picks the teeth out of her face. This is so embarrassing, she thinks. She's supposed to be a Career, all big and strong and tough, and yet here she is, crying like a kindergärtner while the black eyed boy inspects her wounds for poison.

"Yep." Demis mutters, sitting back, "That's Slapeworm venom that is. It's a wonder that they managed to even get that stuff into that fish-thing's teeth!" He licks his lips and Jules gulps.

"What's it gonna do?" She asks tentatively.

"All depends now don't it." Irre, the groups resident 'medic', grins as he passes, plonking himself down next to the little Career and inspecting her wounds. "Ooh yeah, real nasty that, gone all purple. Well, lets see, Slapeworm venom paralyses most people who get bitten by one, not fatal seeing by the amount you've probably got, but still pretty nasty if you've got a whole horde a Slapeworms slitherin' over you, which most probably have if one attacks 'em. Causes seizures in some. Well, seizures then faintin' but that's pretty rare. Count ya lucky stars that ya didn't run into a Haken Stake Boggler, eh Jules?" He laughs to himself, pulling himself to his feet and stomping away. Jules shivers, looking at Demis with wide, fearful eyes.

"Does that mean I'm going to be paralysed for the whole night?" She squeaks.

"Maybe longer." Irre's voice drifts back, "It's kinda like a mini coma. Sounds real fun. Be sure to let me know how it works." Jules looks up at Demis and he smiles, putting an arm around her. He looks down and vaguely wonders whether shivering and her face going red are symptoms of the cold, or whether she's just scared.

"Don't worry, kid." He growls, "We're a team, no one's gonna get rid of you until late in the Games."

"Actually, I might," Irre says without the smallest hint of sarcasm, "I mean, what's the point of dragging some little girl who can't even fight around?" Jules gulps, hoping that Verain hasn't heard them. She doesn't like Verain and it's pretty obvious that Verain is just here to win. If she finds out about Jules predicament, there is really no telling what she might do.

"_Sod's law!" _Claudius chirps as, naturally, Verain has heard every word, _"It truly is violent drama's best friend!"_

"Pretty useless then." Verain sneers, "Looks like we'll have to give you the heave ho." She steps close to Jules, who tries to back away from her, but finds her legs have gone numb, and seem to be locked in place, as if trapped in an invisible cage.

"Not an option." Demis glowers at her, "Never leave a team mate behind until we have to. I've said it before." Verain steps closer to Jules, showing teeth and the other tribute squeaks, clutching a necklace with a lily on it close to her chest and staring at Verain out of her big, brown eyes. Verain is unmoved, however, spinning her short knife over in her fingers and preparing to strike.

"Stand down." Demis growls, looking to the other two Careers for help. Blake stands absolutely still, eyes set on Verain while Irre simply shrugs.

"She's better off dead, mate." He dismisses, turning away, and Demis glares at them, his eyes full of barely concealed hatred.

"Don't worry Jules." Verain smiles, her voice taking on the tone of a patronising teacher talking to an infant "It'll be quick, not like what I'm going to do to Demis. And you'll be doing your bit for the team. Besides, I'm sure you and the others will have a blast in the afterlife when I win. So, what do you say?"

A deadly silence falls over the Careers. Not one figure moves, all staring at one another, listening to their own breathing. And then Jules moves.

"Screw you." Jules growls, spinning the necklace that she holds round in her one still functioning limb and watching with glee as it digs into Verain's face, sending the older girl flying, trailing blood. Jules grins, she may be in a bad position, but that had sure sweet as hell. She watches Verain get to her feet and try and lunge at her, but Demis throws the tall girl backwards, threatening her and swearing like, well, like Zus.

Jules manages a laugh before the poison spreads completely and she falls unconscious.

* * *

Arixo Varsity crouches low, sticking close to the trees as she scurries closer to them. Closer and closer to the Careers. She smiles as she slips her twin swords from their scabbards. Some might call it suicide, but she knows differently. They aren't monsters. They aren't invincible. Heck, they aren't even necessarily good. They are just kids from low Districts. Little kids some of them. Hardly worth their salt when it comes to fighting up close. She knows she can take them. She is a wolf ready to pounce. She is a master of surprise. She flicks her hair and leaps at a tree, using her swords to climb, flipping herself onto one of the thick, low hanging branches and continuing to run, face set in a perpetual grimace, eyes staring dead ahead. She listens, hearing a rustling below her, she swings down from the tree, roaring a battle cry and flicking her foot out into the boy's face. Naturally Zus Ryaov goes flying, rather unnaturally he spins to his feet, loosing an arrow as he does so. Arixo gulps, dodging the arrow and flipping back into the tree, using her swords to climb higher and higher up the tree. She dodges another arrow and Zus growls.

"******* hit and runner!" He screams after her, his voice reaching the heavens as spit sprays from his mouth, and Arixo laughs, spinning on another branch and throwing herself onto a lower branch, before launching off of it, flipping around a tree trunk and springing to the ground. Arixo smiles to herself as she speeds through the jungle. She has been training for this for years. Sleeping on rocks. Running and climbing every day. Planning. Scheming. Just in case she ever needs it. Be prepared, is her motto. She cannot lose. She will not lose. The Careers will never suspect her. She will find them. She will come in the middle of the night, slit their throat, leave them lying in the dirt. She will do it tonight, and then that Zus boy will be next. And then the rest. No one will see it coming. She will kill them all.

The daughter of the flower shop owner will be their next victor.

* * *

"So why are we together then?" Kate asks as she climbs over a low lying branch, "Why aren't we, err, ripping out throats out already?"

"Miss Ryal has just asked me the killer question, literally." Jakob grins, his voice changing even has he speaks, and Kate realises with a start that she has probably never heard his actual voice. "The answer to that question is simple, we get there when we get there."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kate shrieks, eyes wide.

"It means that, for now, we stick together, lil' lady!" Jakob smiles widely, his face looking like it may fall off at any moment due to the wideness of the smile. "We's clever people, see? An' us clever ol' sticks gotta stick together, sista!" Kate groans, all of these voices are starting to get on her nerves, and that one has to be the most annoying he has tried so far.

"_He might put me out of a job!" _Claudius quips, _"Someone kill him!" _The audience laugh. _"No, seriously!"_

Kate tries to think for a second, ignoring Jakob's constant rambling into his tape recorder. True, they are both thinkers, but if anyone is to attack them then they are doomed. Utterly doomed. What they need is a protector, someone tough. She thinks back to her list of problem Careers. District Six, District Nine, Pyro and the Careers. They need one of them to protect them. District Six are out first, they are far too clever and will stick up for each other, so it would be impossible to off them. Zus is never going to team up with them, she can tell that by what little she's seen of him. Alylla is just scary, Pyro too, both of them would just rip their heads off soon as look at them. So that only left... oh God.

"The Careers." Jakob smiles even as she thinks it, as if he is reading her thoughts (God, she wished he'd stop doing that), "Yes. I hate it too but we've got no choice. We have to be in with them to win."

"But why?" Kate asks, even though she knows the answer, "Isn't there anyone else?"

"No. You know that." Jakob sniffs, his voice low and moody, "You're clever, Ms Ryal, not stupid, stop acting like that just because your pretty." Kate slaps him and he gasps, falling to the ground and pushing himself up on his hands.

"Don't. Call. Me. Stupid." Kate hisses, her face dark.

"Oh my, I do believe I'm startin' t' like ya Miss Ryal!" Jakob twangs, his face lighting up as he gets to his feet, "I do like a fighter!" She slaps him again.

"Shut up."

"Yeah, that was a bit undignified." Jakob smiles ruefully, straightening an imaginary tie and combing back his hair, "I do apologise, missy. But I digress. Point is we need the Careers."

"Once again, why?"

"Imagine the most badass but stupid person you have ever met."

Kate smiles, remembering Zard Frezal and his constant flirting and posturing.

"_How many of you kids at home are thinking of me?"_ Claudius grins, _"Me or Caesar? Come on, it's all of you! Don't lie!"_

"That's what most of the Careers are like." Jakob smiles. "An instrument of Mass Destruction which we simply need to harness and then dispose." He smiles, his face creasing. There is something behind the smile. Sadness? Sympathy? Disbelief? She scrutinises him as he turns, leading her onwards towards the big, the bad and the mentally unstable. She squints, distrustful of him. Is he hiding something from her?

* * *

Phillip gasps in pain as he hobbles up the last few rocky steps, into the apparent safety of the dark cave ahead of them.

"Are you sure about this?" Phillip asks, holding his side with his hand as he sits himself down and grunting in pain. The job Emery has done on his chest is mediocre at best, with leaves for bandages and a hard, protective cast made out of the skin of whatever had been attacking them. He can only imagine that she must have been sent a knife while he was unconscious. She couldn't have cut through that creatures skin otherwise. She steps in with him, having spent some time outside setting up the traps that he had prepared for her. Mostly camouflaged bear traps and explosives, but Phillip had also spent some time setting up a rock slide trap, which works by tripping a trip wire. He had learnt that from watching tapes of that District Three guy. What was his name? The old one with the wires.

He is cut of his train of thought by Emery touching his chest with her hand, checking for bleeding. She tries to make it soft and barely even brushes it with her fingers, but it still makes him grunt as she touches the tender wound.

"First rule of a doctor! Don't touch the affected area unless you know it's safe!" Phillip roars, and she whips her hand away, apologising and hiding her face with her hair. He smiles at her, brushing the hair out of her face to reveal what he already suspected. There are a steady stream of tears rolling down her face.

"_Say it with me now! AWWWWW!"_ Claudius pipes up.

"Ah, come on now." Phillip smiles, taking on the same manner that his father adopts when talking to patients, "What's the matter?"

"Y-y-you a-almost died!" Emery gasps through choked sobs, "I've ne-ne-never been m-more s-s-sca..."

"One of us is going to have to die." Phillip reminds her, "I doubt they'll be having another Katniss and Peeta this year."

"_That's not a bad idea!" _Claudius smiles, _"Someone note it down!"_

"Y-yeah but..."

"Look. Try not to think about it." Phillip smiles, "It's gong to be hard on all of us, you know that. after all, how long did it take for me to stagger all the way up this mountain, eh? I mean, what if another Mutt came along, or we met the Careers or that chick who killed Essence? You think I'm happy about all this? I'm not. It's bloody terrifying. But we've got to keep above it. We can't let it pull us under. We have to win." Emery continues to cry, although less hysterically than before, and he offers her his shoulder to rest on. He smiles sadly, glad when she takes the offer, and he sits against the rock wall for hours staring straight ahead, listening to cannons and Templesmith. Eventually, he hears something else and, looking down, sees that Emery has fallen fast asleep and is snoring loudly. He had never realised that she snore. He stretches, wrapping an arm around her neck and her and closing his eyes, trying to ignore the pain that his wound is causing him.

A tear rolls down his face, dripping off the nose and splashing onto the ground in front of him as his head lolls and he falls fast asleep.

* * *

"_Tributes!"_ Claudius booms as Arixo scurries over branches and logs, _"Tomorrow heralds a most dangerous time for you! We will be operating at full capacity by tomorrow. Sending in the first of THE MOST DEADLY trap that all of Panem has to offer!"_ Arixo rolls her eyes, yeah right. Do they really think that any gas or Mutt can stop her. She's Arixo Varsity. No stupid old trap can stop her. She's the Career killer. All through the Games she has been diving in and out of the forest, slashing at the others and not one tribute has even laid a scratch on her. True, she hadn't killed anyone yet, but she'd already wounded Scratch Standards, Essence Craymaker, Pyro and Zus (All of which happened off screen!). She cannot be stopped. She smiles, flipping up onto the top of a tree and staring down at the Careers, who are sitting in a circle with an unconscious girl (no doubt the District Four loudmouth) lying in the corner of the clearing.

"I shay we rest here," Blake stutters, "Leave one guy on watch and keep our weapons close, in case we need th-them." Arixo giggles. The boy's pathetic, how the hell did he even get into the Careers. She is flabbergasted, however to see that, while they to tease him and prod him, the other Careers follow his suggestions without question, even though he is clearly not the leader. They ask him every little question. The tall girl asks whether certain plants are safe to eat and how to heal cuts. The black eyed Demis asks how previous Careers won, so that he can decide how to win. The spiky haired one even ask what to eat and listens intently as the boy lectures him on food triangles and past the diets Game victors. Arixo can't help giggling slightly. These people are idiots. They listen so intently to useless trivia that they hope will give them some shot at winning. That's not how a winner works. Winners already know it. If they know that they can win, then they have already won.

Arixo waits a couple more hours for the Careers to fall asleep and for their guard, the spiky haired lunatic from District One, to forget what he is supposed to be doing and curl up into a ball, fast asleep. Arixo leaps from the tree, landing softly on the ground, swords swung out to either side, ready to face a counter ambush. No sound comes from the Career group, save snoring and the occasional grunt. She smiles, readying her swords, laying them together as she steps towards the District One boy. This is gonna be easy, the girl thinks. Careers? Ha, these losers are just the same as any group of tributes. She is the real victor. She grins, keeping a firm grip on each blade whilst wrapping her thumbs of each hand around the other hilt, giving her a better grip. She lifts the swords high as she steps close to the Career. It's a crying shame that he will never know who killed him, Arixo thinks, smiling smugly as she prepares to bring the blade down. The look on his face would be priceless.

She brings the blade arcing down.

And a hope shattering clang rings out through the clearing.

Arixo looks down. Her swords have wedged into the ground. She pulls them out. She missed? But that's impossible! How could she miss?

She looks down again and smirks. Of course. Irre has uncurled and is squatting on the ground, a small curved hand scythe very visible in his balled fist, glinting in the artificial moonlight. Irre steps to his feet, turns to Arixo and smiles cheerfully, his eyes full of joy and his face pale and gaunt in the moonlight. Arixo snarls. That's the easy way out dead and buried. She takes a step towards Irre, snarling as she closes in on him. Taking it slow, watching for fear. She sees none. God, that makes Arixo angry. This guy isn't even taking her seriously. She'll make him suffer for that. Make it slow. She picks up speed, getting faster and faster until she is running headlong at the Career, head down, twin swords pulled back, ready to strike. Irre grins at her, picking up a dagger that lies next to him and tossing into the opposite hand from the hand scythe. Arixo grits her teeth as she surges nearer to him, sweat running down her face, all her hatred and anger for these Careers balling up into one surge. One unstoppable emotion of purest hate.

"This is gonna be fun." Irre cackles, bounding towards the girl and flinging himself at her, arms whirling.

* * *

**The Dead:**

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

* * *

Arcticmist: 85

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 30

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 35 + medium pack & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 50

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 45 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 60 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 90

HelloPoppet123: 30 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 35 + claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 50

seagreenbeauty: 10

skgirl4ever: 70

wildone97: 20 +Large pack

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 50

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 30

The Other Packman: 10

**Remember to Review!**


	19. Day 1: Beautiful stabbing

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 1**

Lenox rubs her eyes as she wakes. She peers around her. It looks like late night. Although, since this is the Arena, she supposes it could be any time. She tries to stand but a sharp pain cuts through her leg as she does so. Well, at least that means she isn't dead. Yet. She looks around. The first thing she notices is that Pyro is gone, having disappeared as quickly as he had arrived. She can see the path which he has burnt through the forest and breathes a sigh of relief, before looking down and getting a shock. Her wet clothes are gone to be replaced by a dirty white towel that seems to have been made for a decidedly shorter tribute and shows off rather more leg than she is all that comfortable with, being a rather shy and retired girl when it came to that sort of thing. She doesn't remember receiving it from her sponsors, either.

"_Ah fanservice!" _Claudius smiles, _"Garnering mass viewing from male, and in some cases female, audiences of almost every age. Where would we be without it?"_

She takes a tentative step forwards, wincing as her raw and grazed leg touches the ground. Near her feet, a shorter girl flexes in her sleep and moans, calling for her father and mother. So, April was still alive too. Oh goody. Lenox shrugs, quickly drying her hair with the towel and rummaging through the packs that Pyro has left as she tries to find her clothes.

"Night Lenox." A voice chirps from behind her, and Lenox spins to see Scratch Standards standing behind her, his face covered by shadow. She screams, picking up a can of something and throwing it at him, knocking him upside the head. "I take it that means I surprised you. Relax," He takes a step forwards and points to his eyes, which he as screwed shut, "I'm not peeking." She growls at him and he shrugs, reaching behind himself and throwing her her clothes. "There's food over there if you need it." She gawks at him, full of questions that she wanted to ask. Eventually one pushed itself to the surface and blurted out of her mouth.

"Why the hell am I in a towel?" Lenox shrieks, rather more loudly than she had intended to.

"Gift from the sponsors," Scratch shrugs, eyes still closed, "I found you down there," He points in the general direction of The Cornucopia, "Near the Cornucopia, with your leg all beaten up. Seems like that April girl pulled you out or something."

"OK. So where's Essence?" Lenox questions, still slightly skeptical about his answer. The hand that had saved her had been massive. It hadn't been April.

"Dead." Scratch mutters, and his expression suddenly darkens, "Came to give you the heads up."

"Dead? But she's our strongest player!" Lenox gasps, as April moans and fidgets at her feet.

"Exactly." Scratch frowns, "Look Lenox. You're a nice girl and all but, I'm needed by my family. My dad can't work and I need to make money for my family, so they won't have to be whipped by the Peacekeepers for not working no more." Lenox stares at him as realisation slowly dawns on her face.

"So you're saying..."

"Alliance is off Lenox." Scratch mutters, "It's for the best. I ain't got nothing you need and you sure as hell ain't got nothing I need. I'm a nice guy and all, I helped you out just now 'cos I thought you needed to know. You're my District partner after all. You couldn't die without finding out I wasn't going to back you up or nothing. So this time I healed your wounds up best I can, ain't saying I'm good at it or nothing, just saying I tried, and I dried your clothes for you. Got you a nice meal over there. This time I'm on your side, but next time I see you I will kill you. So keep out of my way." He turns, his eyes welling up as he disappears into the trees. He hears her shouting abuse from behind him and the sound of metal hitting the ground. She'd thrown away his food, eh? He sniffs. He had to do it. He hadn't meant to be so harsh sounding but he has proof now. Actual proof. Girls who stay in alliances with him get killed the first time they meet something. It had happened to Essence and now it has almost happened to Lenox too. He has never been good with girls. Those that reject him live, those that don't die. It is just the way his life works.

He buries his face in his hands as he darts through the trees, somehow managing to miss slamming into most of them despite his sudden inability to see.

It was the right thing to do.

Wasn't it?

* * *

Jules stretches, her body aching and sore as she gradually comes too. The first thing she hears is clanging. She groans, opening her eyes and taking in the hazy, indistinct blobs that whirl in front of her, slamming against each other. Parrying and slashing, blocking and thrusting at one another. Jules screws up her eyes again, deciding that she must be seeing things, but still the sound of metal on metal continues. There is a ripping sound, like fabric being torn, and the smell of blood fills her nostrils. She opens her eyes again, and this time she sees the forms in front of her eyes far more clearly. Irre Massenhaft. She groans inwardly. It just had to be him, didn't it? The frothing lunatic is spinning back and forth, arms wild, face set in a perpetual grin even as he inspects the wound that his opponent, Arixo Varsity, has cut across his arm. He spins on his heels, knocking the tall girl backwards, and regards Jules with cold eyes.

"You're back." He smirks, "Was it fun?" Jules stares at him, watching as he takes a step closer to her. She shivers, the girl from District Twelve is back on her feet, stepping slowly towards the spiky haired loon, swords at the ready. Jules tries to shout a warning, tries to get up and run at that Varsity girl, but the poison is still working within her blood and, while she is finally awake, she is totally unable to move or speak at louder than a whisper. Irre looks down at her as she writhes on the floor, trying to stand, and laughs. A loud, cold, cackling fills the clearing and sends birds flying from the branches of their trees. Arixo grits her teeth, leaping at Irre, both swords raised to attack, her pretty face screwed up in hatred.

One sword slashes down, catching Irre's shoulder and digging into it, and Arixo feels a momentary surge of euphoria as blood is forced to the surface. This euphoria is, however, not only killed, but hung drawn and quartered before swiftly being set on fire, as Irre turns, flipping the second sword, which was aimed for his neck, away from him and curving up his kama at her, slashing her across the chest and then throwing her bodily against a tree. Irre smiles, turning to Arixo and giggling, his face lighting up with a kind of manic pleasure.

"Way I see it, you've got three choices." Irre grins, as the girl picks herself to her feet, shaken by the throwing incident, "First, scream. Wake up my buddies and let them tear you to shreds. Boring, but quick. Second, kill yourself. Ain't gonna get you much street cred from the other tributes but hey, at least you'll reach Saint Peter in one piece, eh? Lastly, you can follow me. Get away from these crazy Careers and have a little fun with me. How's it sound, toots?"

"_So many options!"_ Claudius announces, _"I wonder which one I'd choose?"_

Arixo grits her teeth, stepping towards Irre and clenching her fists around her swords.

"Option three." She growls, eyes a dark green, "Lets dance, asshole." Irre grins widely, before disappearing into the undergrowth. Arixo takes a short look at the Careers, regarding their sleeping faces coolly, before pelting after him.

Jules remains lying where she is, struggling to move as she attempts to crawl after them. She wasn't going to miss a fight like that! Not for the world! She'd smash through the clearing when they least expect it, delivering a crippling blow to both tributes. She will spear them where they stand. Then, once those two have been taken care of, only Blake and Verain would be able to stand between her and victory. And Demis of course. She'd miss him. Sure she would move on, she decides as she crawls forwards, every twitch an effort, but it would still be hard to do. For one thing Demis is a good fighter and he is also a very kind guy.

"Well, nice for a Career." She sniffs. She had thought that the other Careers would just be a bunch of over confident jerks with more muscles than brain cells. Man had she been wrong! Demis hadn't been anything like that. In fact, she thinks as she eases herself forward, he had been nothing but kind to her thus far.

"I'll kill him while he sleeps." She mutters to herself. "Save him the pain of having to fight me." Yes, she is going to miss him, she decides. Miss him more than anything. But she has to win! She grits her teeth, stumbling a tree, where she manages to sit down, breathing heavily.

"Julesh? Ish that you" She looks over, spotting Blake Kaitz, who is kneeling nearby, staring around to try and pinpoint where all that scuffling is coming from.

"Yeah. It's me." Jules groans. What was that jerk doing up? He'd ruin everything! How was she supposed to go and kill Irre and Arixo with that useless spare wheel tagging along.

"You can talk?" Blake gasps, crawling over to where she lays and staring at her, "But Irre shaid you wouldn't be able to m-move until morning!"

"Irre ain't always right you know!" Jules barks and Blake moves away from her, fear on his face. "All I needed was six or seven hours to fight the poison. Ain't nothin'." She winks at him to show she's okay and tries to stand. The sooner she can get away the better.

"You crawled all the way over here?" Blake asks, and Jules stiffly nods. "Y-you-you're such a fighter!" She grins widely.

"Well I don't mean to brag but..."

"Sho, what do you think of me?" Blake asks.

"What do I think of you?" She gulps, caught off guard. Okay Jules, be kind, you don't want to kill him just yet.

"Y-yeah. I mean, y-you're big and heroic and I'm... I'm just an orphan." He looks down, dejected.

"W-well, I think..." Her mouth runs dry. Did this suck-upy little leech really have to ask such an awkward question? She finds herself blushing. Dammit, she would have to kill him before he started following her around like a lost puppy, then.

"You think I'm pathetic." Blake groans.

"No," Jules lies, "I don't!"

"You do." Blake says, looking up at her, "You think I'm a shad little idiot. You alwaysh have. You think I'm pathetic. You think I'm commisherable. Dishtresshing. Feeble. Heartrending. Inadequate, lamentable, meager, miserable, petty, piteous, plaintive, poor, puny, rueful, useless, woeful, worthless, wretched. A loser." His voice rises with every word and his eyes fill with hate. Jules lets out a gasp as the boy's lisp vanishes into thin air. He isn't in love with her! It's a trap!

"_It's a trap!" _Caesar booms from somewhere in the distance as Blake's hand shoots out, grabbing Jules chin and jerking it back uncomfortably against the tree. He grins as he reaches down, patting her head with his hand and flashing her a winning smile.

"You know Jules, I'm OK with you. I don't hate you or anything it's just that, Verain has a point. Even if you are a fighter we can't have you going down every time someone chucks an itty bitty fish at you." He smirks, his sea green eyes reflecting her own scared face back to her as he rummages in her equipment. "I think I'll use your trident." He grins. "It seems more poetic." Jules' eyes widen and she lashes out, catching him in the face with her foot. It wasn't a powerful kick, the poison was still affecting her and so she wasn't exactly strong yet, but it was enough to make him mad. Blake bares his teeth, stabbing the trident at her slender arm and pinning her against the tree. Her eyes widen as she looks down at the cuts that have been scored in either side of her arm and then up at the boy who stands in front of her.

"Run." He drawls. his voice somehow still carrying a seductive creamy quality despite the venom it also possesses "Run off and die in a hole. We don't need you round here. Me and Verain, we've got it all sorted out, and we don't need you whimpering around here messing it up. So go on," He draws the trident out of the tree and throws it down by one side, watching the shaking girl who cowers before him, "Scurry away. Demis'll be dead within hours and you can have a nice relaxing death." She tries to step to her feet to confront him but, as she steps forwards she notices something. Explosives. At least ten of them have been laid on the floor around her, presumably by Blake when he was pretending to act all fidgety around her.

"Monster." She hisses.

"You know what those are?" Blake asks, pointing at a mine, "Those are miniature versions of the same things that blew The Cornucopia open on the first day. Not much really. Enough to blow you sky high if you step on one though. Cost a lot, but fortunately some old lady likes me and donated them."

The taller boy swaggers towards her, pushing his head close and breathing on her cheek. He smiles, sticking out his tongue and licking the blood that has splattered on her face off, gaining the squees of numerous girls back in Panem.

"Whose Pathetic now, huh darlin'?" Blake grins, slapping her around the face as he stands, before turning away and leaving Jules Radcliffe to her fate, run or die. She gasps, terrified, eyes wide and staring, tears streaming down her face as she breaths deeply. She finally manages to drag herself to her hands and knees, crawls to the trees and lifts herself up. She looks back, thinking of Demis, her eyes welling up and then disappears into the night, crawling away from the Careers. She was going to get her revenge for that. She was going to make him pay.

She had thought that the other Careers would just be a bunch of over confident jerks with more muscles than brain cells. Man had she been wrong.

* * *

Arixo bursts into the clearing only a few seconds after Irre has arrived and spends the brief seconds between arrival and him pouncing on her to survey her surroundings. They are standing at the top of a waterfall in the jungle, with nothing but a water and a solid drop in front of her and the rush of a raging river to her left. She groans, the boy sure knows how to pick 'em. It is at this exact moment that 'the boy' who has clearly spent no time deciding how to best use this particular setting, pounces on her. Arixo growls as his fist slams right into her face. She stumbles back under the force of the blow and, once again, he picks her up and throws her. She spins across the ground, twisting to her feet and skidding to a halt just inhes from the edge of the waterfall before pouncing towards him. In this time the Career makes no attempt to follow up his attack and Arixo bristles with fury. He wants to draw this fight out. Well, two can play at that game. She grins thinly as her foot speeds up at him, jamming into his groin and causing him to gasp. She laughs harshly, it is an appropriate move to start a fight with a madman.

Arixo spins on her heels, drawing back her leg as she does so and kicking it into his stomach, winding him and dropping his guard. She slashes at Irre, her pinpoint strikes each finding there mark on his body as the muscular boy falls back from the rain of blows, that ungodly grin still stretched across his face. The girl spins on her toes as she dodges his attacks before answering with a thrust to the groin, which barely misses as the boy steps out of the way. He grins at her lopsidedly, before slashing out again with his hand scythe in a wide arc. She ducks just beneath it, watching as it cuts through a few strands of hair on her head and brushes across her chin and chest, but otherwise does little damage.

"_Games Maker Connor Flipseye informs us that this particular maneuver is known as 'The Neo'."_ Claudius announces to the audience, ever helpful with his sources of information.

"Nice." Irre grins as he stabs the dagger up, but once again she dodges out the way, slashing his face before stepping back to avoid yet another strike.

"Face it, kid." She spits, "We're in a whole different league."

"Yeah." Irre smiles, stabbing forwards at her, "Normally I'd agree. But, see, I got one thing on my side," He falls sideways even as she dodges him, slamming her into the ground with his shoulder and forcing her to the floor. "I don't fight fair." He smiles, kicking her in the stomach and laughing as she slashes at his foot. He moves his hand up, grabbing hold of a branch and using it to pull himself off the ground and out of the way of her blows. She moves to stand as she is given a brief respite but, before she can move, his knee comes down again, slamming into her chest and winding her once again. The girl growls and Irre laughs again, his voice high and manic.

"What's next, huh?" He grins, "What ya gonna do?" She spits at him, rolling to one side as she does so and pushing up with her arms, physically flinging him from off of her and planting him down in the mud. She spins round and lashes out, narrowly missing his shoulder as he dives under her, blocking the blow with the dagger in his left hand before it can hit. She back peddles as he rolls towards her, his body now literally covered in mud and filth as he hacks at her legs and feet. Her blade swings around into his face, slashing at the skin above his eye and causing him to cry out and clutch the wound.

"Got the piggy to squeal, eh?" She smiles, spinning her other sword in her hand and stabbing down to deliver the final blow. The blade skins his shoulder as he uses the dagger to deflect it, but he continues to smile. She stumbles back, put off by the failure of what should have been a decisive blow, and he takes that opportunity to strike, grabbing her thigh and jamming the dagger into it, before pulling her to the ground. She grits her teeth, rolling over so that she is kneeling above him and stabbing down. Once again her swords are blocked by Irre's deadly hand scythe. Irre grins, reaching up to one of the swords with his free hand and grabbing the flat of the blade. Her muscles tense as he pulls on the blade, and her face screws up in defiance, but her hand is sweaty on the hilt, and exhaustion kicks in at the least opportune moment as he wrenches the sword from her hand and flings it to the far side of the clearing, where it becomes lodged within the branches of a tree. She leaps up, sprinting towards her sword with all her might, totally ignoring the dagger that is still lodged in her thigh. She reaches out for it, but is yanked back by Irre, who has grabbed her around her wrist, causing her legs to fly out from under her and for her to fall to her knees. She growls as he spins her around, dragging her towards and gripping the other wrist in his hand. She struggles to be free, kicking and slashing at him with her remaining sword.

"What are you doing, asshole?" She grimaces, wincing as he presses on her wrists. He simply grins wider, closing his eyes and humming to himself as he steps in time.

"I used to take dance lessons you know." He says, his voice as calm and collected as if he were simply chatting to an old friend, as oppose to fighting for his life against 'District Twelve's Gladiator', as Arixo had dubbed herself. She stares at him, her dark green eyes boiling with anger. She wishes that she could kill him with her glare, for, if it were possible, she surely would have done it by now. "It's real good for learning to fight." She stares over at where they are going and sees that he is dragging her towards the river. Her legs back pedal desperately, but he is too strong. She thrashes her arms and swears at him as he begins to chant an old District One song and step to the beat.

Two steps forwards, one back.

She sees the river raging in front of her as his grip tightens even further and her sword drops to the floor. She struggles and spits in his face, her gaze now as deadly as bubbling acid. Suddenly his hand slips and hers breaks free. She reaches for the dagger in her thigh and wrenches it out, spilling blood everywhere. His eyes fly open and he roars in anger as she breaks away. She ducks backwards as he reaches for her with his left hand, his right reaching for the hand scythe that he had stowed on his belt. She roars at him, lashing out at him with the dagger, her arm curving down as the lethal tip of the weapon sped towards her. He too struck out, his hand scythe speeding up towards her, its own serrated edge turned slightly to one side, so as to ensure maximum blood shed when it hit.

Both blows strike their targets.

Both tributes cry out.

A cannon goes off.

"_Oh the suspense is killing me!"_ Claudius squeals as, all around him, the audience hold their breath and wait.

Irre falls to his knees, hands lip by his sides, face contorted in a savage growl, his lips pulled back, his nostrils flared. The dagger falls from his eye socket, the tattered remains of an eye still clinging to its end. Blood rolls down his face as he falls forwards, twitching slightly on the jungle floor.

And then he takes a ragged breath.

And screams as his brain snaps and a shiver suns down his spine.

"GRAAAAAAAAGH!"

The sound fills the air. Sending every single creature in the forest wild. Dinosaur Mutts howl, 'Fish' click their teeth, thousands of birds leave their perch and flutter around in the sky and both Pyro and Hype join in, one for sheer pleasure, the other simply because he is keeping guard of his alliance members and has nothing better to do.

Irre feels around on the floor until he finds her body. He wipes his remaining eye with a hand in order to remove the blood and looks around. He still can't open it, the blood is pooling too fast for his body to let him.

She blinded him.

He mummers to himself, reaching up and wrenching the hand scythe from her jugular, a tear runs down his face as he listens to the blood gush. Irre picks her to her feet, wrapping an arm around her waist and gripping her dead hand in one of his. He waltzes her a couple of steps over and then stops, flinging her away from him. It is only mildly gratifying to hear the splash she makes as she tumbles from the waterfall. He turns away and sits down on a rock, dabbing his bleeding socket with a damp rag.

He is going to have to learn to manage, he thinks. Blind people manage after all and this shouldn't be permanent.

He still has one eye, right?

Irre sits on the rock for a long time and, for the first time in a long, long time, tears gush down his face.

Tears stained red.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

Left: 10 male, 9 female tributes

* * *

**And on the Sponsorship front:**

Arcticmist: 85

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 40

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 45 + medium pack & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 60

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 55 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 70 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 100

HelloPoppet123: 40 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 50 + claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 60

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 80

wildone97: 30 +Large pack

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 60

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 30

The Other Packman: 10


	20. Day 1: The Rise of Man

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 1**

The silver canister bursts open and its contents drop to the hard earth. Arrows. Not food. Arrows. Ten of them.

"Goddammit!" Zus roars, kicking the metal capsule and ripping the parachute into tiny shreds. No food! None at all! Just arrows, and not many of them at that! Zus glares down at the arrows, before picking them up and slipping them into his quiver. He isn't going to kill anything with no arrows after all and now he has fourteen. Fourteen is enough to take him to the final eight. If he reuses arrows he should easily be able to win this, he thinks.

"****." Zus says to himself, slipping back into the jungle after a quick look around to check that no one is watching him. "Last thing I need are some goddamn cameras staring at me and showing ******* everyone where the **** I am."

In the studio, Claudius rolls his eyes. Zus Ryaov is not a nice man to view. There are, effectively, three reasons for this. Firstly, it is because of his general ugliness and his general. The next reason is because of the amazing difficulty that the cameras have finding Zus, as he has spent almost the entire game thus far hiding in holes and under roots, waiting for the perfect opportunity to snipe other tributes. Finally, and most importantly, it is because of his horrible potty mouth and vulgarity which means that Parental Guidance messages must be shown every time he appears on screen. Zus has, however, become something of a breakaway tribute and, after some arm bending from a certain, and very important, fan of the lanky teen, Claudius has finally been forced to include Zus much more than he would have liked in the screening of the Hunger Games. The boy is now on another swearing tirade. Goody, Claudius groans, that'll get views. Well, there isn't much he can do about it now, is there? Claudius gives another little sigh, he's been doing that a lot recently, and sits back to continue watching.

On the screen Zus ducks under another branch, slipping an arrow into his bow just in case and keeping low to the ground. He mutters curses as he goes. Why did it have to be arrows? What, are they expecting him to kill someone? Are they just expecting him to go charging into the Careers alliance shooting wildly? That will get him killed.

Zus grunts, squatting down behind a tree as he listens to footsteps coming from the other direction. That's the problem with this year, he thinks, alliances. In the previous years you would generally get a Career pack that broke up pretty quickly and maybe another pair of idiots who always seemed to get cocky, ramble on and on about the 74th Hunger Games and then die on the first day because they ate the wrong sort of berries. This year he has counted about four. All the weaklings had banded together into squads and left only the tough and the crazy. Now how the hell is a sniper supposed to take on alliances?

"Whole worlds gone crazy!" Zus growls as he listens to the footfalls grow louder. "******* crazy!" He stares out from behind the tree and a wide grimace sets on his face. The lanky kid from District 11.

"****." Zus mutters to no one in particular. It helps him to talk, makes him feel like someone actually gives a rats ass about him in this god forsaken arena. "That's the guy who was with that ******* Career girl." He growls, wasting no time in loosing an arrow straight toward the boy's head. Scratch springs off of the ground, leaping away from the arrow and wincing as it buries itself in his foot, spraying blood across the jungle floor.

"Heard you talkin'." Scratch gasps, clutching his foot and drawing a spear from his back.

"****." Zus barks. Scratch still can't see him, hiding in the trees and shrubs, but he knows he's there. If he finds Zus... Well, he'd tear through the sniper like tissue paper.

"Guess you're planning on killing me?" Scratch twirls his spear like a baton as he drags himself forward on his injured foot. "Well, I got priorities. I'm a fighter. How about you?" Zus keeps quiet, monitoring his breathing. This guy is cleverer than he looks. Zus knows that, if he opens his mouth then the other tribute will know where he's hiding.

"Keeping quiet, eh?" Scratch smiles, trying to keep the confident leer on his face. Showing weakness will be fatal, "Guess you're too clever for me." Zus gives a quiet laugh. This guy doesn't know the start of it. The sniper slips another arrow into his bow. It was going to help to be ready. Scratch smiles toothily, sweating as he takes a step towards Zus. The man will shoot if Scratch tries to run, and he knows that, but maybe there's a way that he can leave here alive and without blood on his hands.

"You know, we can't win this alone." Scratch soothes, "Those Careers'll rip us to shreds!"

"Yeah." Zus grunts back, unable to hold his tongue, "I'm sure you know all about Careers, huh, Lover Boy?" Scratch's smile falters.

"Look." He groans, "You're a good shot and I'm good up close! Together we can be unstoppable. We can win this!"

"What." Zus laughs bitterly, "Are you asking me out on a ******* date, or something? Well, I ain't got time for your ******* wide eyed idealism. I'm gonna win this on my own! I don't need no god damn **** eaters help, got it?"

"This is serious. Neither you or I stand a chance alone! We need each other to win."

You goin' gay on me?" Zus snarls, "So we're gonna be what? A gay Katniss an' Peeta, right?"

"_Wow, these Katniss and Peeta jokes are getting really old." _Claudius comments.

"Yeah." Zus roars with laughter, his harsh voice echoing through the clearing, "I can see it now! You as the brave fighter with a ******* moral compass stuck on good an' me as the ruthless bowman. Nah. I like my masculinity thanks." Zus steps up, drawing back the string of his bow and preparing to fire.

"Fair enough." Scratch smiles, his voice startlingly louder than it should be. Zus gulps, looking down. Scratch is standing right on the other side of the tree.

"****!" Zus exclaims, "Should have stayed quiet."

"Should have stayed hidden too!" Scratch smiles, "I could see you as soon as you started joking around with me." The District Eleven tribute smiles, not unkindly, but with a grim determination behind his eyes that shows that he plans to finish this, and stabs his spear at the tree.

Zus spins out the way, sending his arrow flying away from him and landing on the ground. He kicks out with his leg in an attempt to catch Scratch off guard, but the other tribute easily blocks, stabbing out at Zus' leg and cutting it deeply. Now they're even. Zus growls, launching himself away from the tree by kicking against it, but Scratch stumbles after, raising his spear above his head as he charges forwards. Zus grits his teeth. Scratch will be upon him soon. He quickly flicks an arrow out of his quiver, spinning it onto the bowstring and pulling it back as far as he can with the time he has. Scratch slashes out again, snapping the longbow in half with his spear, even as the arrow leaves it. Zus falls back, caught by the wood of the bow flying out and driving into his face. The arrow catches Scratch in the side of his stomach stomach, sending him rolling to the floor, breathing deeply. Zus pulls himself to his feet. Drama Queen, Zus scowls at the other teen. Should be glad that Zus didn't get him through the brain like he had been planning. Besides, that gouge won't kill him, nothing vital got hit.

"I'll give you one last chance." Zus huffs, kneeling down to look Scratch in the eye. "You know where Alylla Stone, District 9 chick, is, I'll kill you nice and quick. You don't, I'll let the Mutts have you. Whole woods crawling with 'em." Scratch looks up at him, battered and bruised, blood slowly trickling from his wounds. He smiles sympathetically, but keeps his mouth shut. Zus shrugs. He turns and drags himself through the trees, searching for a new bow.

"Arrows without a bow are even more useless than just arrows." Zus mutters to himself.

A couple of minutes before dawn breaks, a cannon goes off. Zus smiles. That must be his kill.

* * *

"_A couple of minutes before day break_." Claudius smiles to the cameras, _"And The Reject alliance are getting ready to leave the safety of their cave and venture down into the harsh jungle in search of food."_

"How are we supposed to catch anything like this?" Kayton complains as she marches up and down, inspecting Georia and Hype as Trent walks close behind her, leaning down occasionally to whisper something totally inaudible into her ear. "All we've got is an axe and an umbrella."

"You've never seen me, like, use thus rad lil' invention of mine then?" Hype grins rather too widely, and both Trent and Georia take a step back. Kayton rolls her eyes. This entire team is weird. Weird and dangerous. The first chance she gets she will kill them all. She'll have to or else she'll go as crazy as they are. The only real problem with this plan is that they're all much older than her, and the white haired girl keeps giving her odd looks. She'll have to watch out for that one, she decides.

Georia is similarly pessimistic about the alliance, her mouth dry from fear as she watches the other three figures parade around the cave. The Boss, the short tom boy who is acting like sh owns the place, and Her Shadow, with the unreadable face and inaudible voice, she can't trust either of them. Then there's The Bear. He's nice enough at the moment, she can tell whenever she looks into his eyes that he's as scared witless as she is, but she knows what he can do now, and there is danger behind those eyes. She'll have to kill him eventually, but she doesn't look forward to it. She gulps, turning the beaded necklace over in her hands again and again, twisting it into all variety of shapes.

The only one she could trust had been Alew.

Alew was dead.

He had died first.

Died saving Ryaov, the tough guy from Nine.

A smile forms on Georia's lips. Ryaov owes District Eight. He owes the friends and family of Alew. And Georia is... was Alew's friend. So that means that he owes her. She giggles to herself. Now she has her plan. She has her vengeance. She has her victory. Hype smiles over at her and she nods to him. He grins widely and winks, before turning and stomping out of the cave in search of food. And with that one move she knows that he can't win this. His mind is too frail, too broken. Not like hers.

Then she will have to kill him.

Then she will find Zus and help him. He will kill the other tributes.

And then she will kill him. She will trick him to his death.

First she will get him to kill the other two.

Georia smiles, giggling as she thinks of her plan. Of how it will work and play out. Of how she will be toured around in victory, crowds screaming her name, hatred gone. Even District Eight will love her! No one will ever see her as a bad luck omen again. She will finally be a real person. More than that even. She will be a super star. A legend.

Georia Hanel smiles, resting back against the wall and closing her eyes. It was always good to have a plan to win these things, even if that plan is going to send you insane, which having to kill the people who helped her surely will do.

But being insane is better than being dead. Better than being hated.

And she won't miss Trent or Kayton. Not after what they'd done to her!

"Guys! Hey guys!" Hype roars, rushing back into the cavern, a look of terror on his face. "They're here!" Trent and Kayton look up almost immediately, eyes wide as the boy comes charging into them and bowling them both over.

"Who are here?" Kayton gasps, feeling the air pushed out of her by Hype's sudden tackle. She forces him off of her and stares at him. "Who are here, Hype?"

"Th-th-they're like, man, I mean, like, real, err..." Kayton slaps him, "Thanks... Now, where was I?"

"You were about to tell us who is here..." Trent replies, eyes cold as he speaks, his voice lacking any emotion at all. "So... Who is..."

"MUTTS!" Kayton yelps, jumping away from Hype as seven stooping lizards slink into the cave, their eyes lit up by the light of the moon and reflecting green. Like cats eyes. One of them hisses at Hype, who vomits at the sight of them, and Kayton steps away from him.

"OK," Kayton shouts, not bothering to wait for Trent's advice before acting, "Trent, you take Georia and run back into the caves! We'll find you soon as this is all over!" Trent gives the creepiest smile in the history of the universe and nods, turning away and staring at Georia, who shivers. Sparing no time for pleasantries, the older boy sweeps her off her feet, swinging her over his shoulder and taking off into the darkness, ignoring her panicked screams.

Hype turns to Kayton, a grimace growing on his face as the voice of Murp tells him what has to be done. He takes a bite of jelly cube and folds his umbrella, pointing it at the beasts.

"I really don't wanna do this." Kayton gulps, fingering her axe nervously as the creatures close in.

"Why are you, like, helping then?" Hype asks.

"Dunno. Maybe I just caught crazy off of you guys!" She smiles dryly, charging at the creatures even as they hiss and bound towards the two tributes. Hype smiles. It took a great leader to selflessly help a bunch of misfits who she had met the night before and would eventually have to kill anyway. Hype thinks about this as he smashes in the head of one of the beasts, who has slipped on his vomit and fallen to the floor.

Actually it didn't.

It took a raving lunatic to do something like that!

* * *

Outside the arena tensions are equally high as a group of figures watch the monitors from directly outside the Arena. Thebes Horrors, one of the Games Makers, looks around timidly, once again glad for the many Peacekeepers who keep the screaming crowds at bay. He didn't think there should be crowds outside the Arena. It didn't seem to make sense. But, according to Pizzo, who currently stands next to him, anyone who could afford it has been flown over to the Arena to watch. Every eye and camera in Panem is turned to them and the people are roaring the names of their heroes. After all, who wouldn't want to see a public meeting involving the entire head staff of the Games Makers, the entire Presidential family, Flavious Thorn, head of the senate and approximately fourteen different victors. Thebes smiles wryly. He hopes that at least his family are cheering his name, although he doubts it. His children are probably cheering for Haymitch, and his wife is almost certainly trying to get Zard Frezal's autograph. Thebes sighs inwardly, they just don't understand the importance of this event.

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" Zitheneals Denair roars from his podium, and the entire crowd is immediately silent. "Welcome to what I hope you will find the start of the most enjoyable trap ever, courtesy of my son, Connor." There is a smattering of applause and some uneasy looks. Most people didn't even know that Denair had a son. This is, of course, because he does not. Connor Flipseye, the current Assistant Head Games Maker is only twelve years old.

"_This is arguably impressive, but also raises a whole lot of questions about the way the Games are run, and so it has been decided that it should be kept a highly guarded secret."_ Caesar announces, before remembering that the average household cannot read the thoughts of Thebes Horrors, and shutting up immediately.

"This is, of course," Denair continues, "To commemorate the re-population program for District Thirteen, which gives District, and indeed Capitol, people to start a new life in the production lines of a new District, away from the lush trees and animals that they may have become bored with over the years." He pauses, "So without further ado, allow me to introduce the man who will usher in Hunger Games Day Two. The head of The..." Denair is seized by a coughing fit and blood spatters his hankie, "... District-Capitol Relations Bureau in the senate. Gale Hawthorne!" There is an eruption of applause from the previous victors as a dark haired man in his early fifties steps onto the stage. He looks at the crowd with disgust, pulling on a lever on the wall before stomping through the doors. Thebes smiles, watching the man leave. Denair has been planning this for years and everyone knows that it is probably only on that one deal, that last little show of defeat, that Mr Hawthorne and his family have survived, even thrived, for all these years. Everyone knows that Hawthorne had been on _their_ side in the revolution. Most still knew him as the cousin of Katniss Everdeen, though that had been disproven by Panem scientists years ago. The rest of the Careers file back into the building as the screen shows the bloody results of the trap. Thebes rolls his eyes.

This isn't a government.

This is a show. A last straw to break the back of a grumpy and determined camel. To force a great revolutionary leader to sentence people of the Districts to their deaths. To threaten his family, even, to make him do it. He looks over to Viridis, who sadly shakes his head. It is a low trick that has just been played.

And the Districts aren't going to stand for it.

* * *

Lenox groans, sitting by the side of the Blood Bath as she bites into the last bit of a chicken leg which one of her Sponsors has sent to her, thankful of the food. She looks over at April, who is busy readying a rucksack to take with them. Lenox looks up as it begins to rain heavily, watching as The Cornucopia bubbles slightly and the gory water flows out over the edge. Lenox wretches as a piece of finger, presumably belonging to a dead tribute, touches her foot. She takes a step back, but still tries to count her blessings. At least the rain puts out the fires that that idiot Pyro has set.

"We're out of matches!" April shouts from the other side of the Blood Bath, searching through the pile.

"What do we need matches for anyway?" Lenox asks and April spits at her, the glob flying from her lips and splashing into the rapidly swelling water of the Blood Bath.

"What if you drown yourself again, nitwit?" She growls, "How're we supposed to dry you off?" Lenox growls at her, this girl is starting to get her down.

"Who says it won't be you who needs saving next time?" Lenox retorts.

"I'm clever than you, that's why." The other counters.

"_Looks like tempers are starting to fray!"_

"Oh yeah!" Lenox growls.

"Yeah. Stronger too."

"Heh, yeah right!" Lenox smiles, taking a step closer to April and finding her feet on wet ground. "I could of killed you in seconds."

"Sure honey." April winks, putting on the most mocking tone imaginable, "Whatever you say." Lenox bares her teeth. Okay, now this little runt is beyond annoying, she is now a serious problem.

"You want another go?" Lenox growls, whipping her rope belt off and swinging it at April, pulling her into the bubbling water. April leaps out almost immediately, flipping a dagger off of her own belt and slashing at Lenox, who is shoved to the ground. April grins, slashing at Lenox as the taller girl dodges and weaves, wrapping the rope around her neck.

"_Man, can't these two go five minutes without trying to kill each other?"_ Claudius asks. He's right though, their alliance has deteriorated faster than most.

Lenox dodges the blade as it slashes down again, serving only to cut the majority of her hair off, leaving her head a slashed and bleeding mess, bereft of her beloved curls. Lenox growls, kicking at April as she tightens the rope around the other girls throat. And then she sees the head and lets the rope drop.

Lenox tries desperately to crawl away as the 'Whatever-the-hell-it- is surfaces from out of the Blood Bath. A massive spear clutched in its hand, its handsome face lit up in an expression of euphoria. April grins, grabbing Lenox's neck and beginning to choke the air out of her body.

"Aww. Baby's giving up?" April simpers, cutting Lenox's cheek with the knife, "Well maybe I don't need to kill you just yet." Lenox's lip quivers as she tries to speak, tries to warn the savage girl on top of her. April is crushing her neck though, she can't make a sound. And the shorter girl has no idea that she has sealed her own fate. More of them are rising out of the bloody bog now, holding axes, swords, bows, shields, tridents and even a glaive in the case of the largest, ugliest looking one. Her mouth opens in a silent scream, but no words come out. Lenox doesn't have enough air left for screams at the moment, her body has decided. April grins at her and runs the dagger over Lenox's chest in a rough 'X'.

"Goodbye, District 11!" April grins, not noticing the twelve creatures that now stand arrayed behind her, silent, non moving, barely breathing as they take in the violence.

"See ya..." Is all Lenox can manage back as the hand of a trident armed Muttination, a huge vaguely human woman with a four emblazoned on her head, grabs April round the neck and picks her up. Recognition dawns on April's eyes as she stares in horror at the beast, and she has just enough time to lash out with her foot, sending the creature into back into the Blood Bath even as it snaps her neck clean through, sending blood spurting everywhere and dropping the corpse to the ground.

The cannon goes off and, in the distance, Zus Ryaov smiles. That must be his kill.

Lenox stares for a minute, easily recognising the Mutts now, even as they dive back into the water to feast on the remains of the girl.

She turns and flees from them, tearing through the trees on her hands and knees where she has to, as the sun comes up on the virtual sky behind her. She couldn't fight them. These twelve new Mutts. They were worse than the Dino Mutts, worse than every Peacekeeper back home, even worse than the Careers.

Victors.

* * *

**The age of Man has begun!**

"_That's right! Victors! Zard Frezal of District One, District Two's Enoch Longcast, Three's Kyte Luch, Four's Victor Ebony Raven, Victor of the 76__th__ Hunger Games Pheremonious Firecracker, Kai Keoloha of District Six, Linkous Lamont, Sevdad Kerin, Broth Stoker, Delfont of District Eleven fame and last but certainly not least, HAYMITCH ABERNATHY! Each Mutt has been restored to their victorious ages, presented with the weapons they used to win and given copious amounts of adrenaline and steroids, so expect gore! Because they are the victors. And the Age Of Man has begun!"_

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

Left: 10 male, 9 female tributes

* * *

Arcticmist: 85

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 55 + medium pack & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 70

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 75 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 80 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 110

HelloPoppet123: 40 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 75 + claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 70

.with.a. bowtie (sorry, for some reason it's not doing your name right):20

skgirl4ever: 80

wildone97: 40 +Large pack

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 30

kuhse: 50

_The Other Packman: 10_

_**The first Dead Tributes Society is next! **_(This will just be a quick recount of what's happened to the dead)_  
_


	21. Dead Tributes Society 1

AN: Remember kids, this is pretty much an AU fic, meaning that many of the Victors, even some of those who die in the books, are still alive. Why? Because it's cool and it makes the story flow better, I really just felt like including some of them.

Also, next chapter all items on the sponsorship list will rise in price by 10 pts, so get buying now!

And just to add to the craziness, there is a ten point bonus for each canon victor you can spot in this chapter, so get looking.

**The Dead Tributes Society:**

**Where dead tributes come to die.**

"_Day One has left a heavy toll on the tributes of this years Hunger Games, leaving five dead and unleashing an even greater threat upon the remaining nineteen, their own predecessors! _

_But what about the dead? Those five sorry souls who perished in the Bloodbath and the first day? Well, while their lives may have ended their stories have not, so let us follow them to their Districts to see their friends and family give a last goodbye._

ALEW FEROVE (Age 12):

They had all known that Alew was doomed. Right from the moment his name had been pulled out. Sure he had pretended, they had pretended, to try and make it better, but they had known from the start.

Lisa's eyes hurt as she stares down into the coffin through bleary eyes, looking into the restored face of her younger brother. He looks so peaceful, she thinks, so natural, despite the numerous scars running across his face and the regraphted skin that had been attached over the parts that couldn't be restored. The Capitol had payed for the burial. The body reconstruction, the service at their area's finest (and only) undertakers, the casket. Even the clothes that the mourners now wear have been payed for with Senate money. It hadn't cost them a dime.

And that is what makes Lisa sick to the back teeth. They just throw money at the Districts every time a tribute dies and then pretend that that tribute never existed. Like somehow paying for it makes the death all better. It's disgusting. True Alew hadn't died with grace or in anyway particularly special. True he had had more importance in the world over these past few days than many would argue he would have had otherwise, but that isn't to say that they can just forget him! He is- was- her little brother, not their personal play thing! The Capitol have no right to pay for any of this!

Lisa grinds her teeth, shaking uncontrollably as tears run down her face. They must be enjoying this in the Capitol, watching a teenage girl crying and pretending that they have helped to ease her hard time. Acting as though the death had been inescapable.

But she doesn't care about their showy little parades. She would gladly trade all of the treasures of one thousand Panem's just to have the chance to see her brother again. To hold him in her arms and to cry and cry and tell him that he was safe. She balls up her hands into burning fists and turns to the escort of District Eight. She wants to drive her fist into the tall, crow-like, woman's stomach, to rip her to pieces and to track down every last person in Panem and destroy them. But there's nothing she can do. She falls to her knees and begins blubbering into her closed fists, praying to whatever force is up there to protect little Alew. She feels a hand on her shoulder and looks up into the face of one of the mentors from her District. A thin, wiry old man with a rather frazzled and distant expression on his face.

"There, there, dear." The man growls, his voice barely more than a whisper, "You wouldn't have wanted him to win. 'E's better dead"

Lisa blinks the tears out of her eyes and, for the second time, feels like hitting someone. How dare he say that! Alew shouldn't be dead, he should be allowed to live, he should have been allowed to win.

But then there would still be Twenty Three unhappy families, Lisa realises with a start.

And her precious little brother would have murdered them all for a sick nations amusement.

She would never have been able to look at him again. He would be a monster. She sniffs and gets to her feet. The old man smiles, patting her on the back as he leads her away.

"Better to be a dead man than a live monster," The deaf victor of the Twenty Fifth Hunger Games mutters, "I should know. I learnt that lesson a whole eighty five years ago."

QUENTIN RAPIDO (17):

"WILL SOMEONE PLEASE REMIND ME HOW MANY TIMES THIS DISTRICT HAS WON?" Heartford Rapido roars as pieces of fine china and cushions are sent whirling around the room in a deadly barrage.

The answer is five, of which only three remain, but no one dares say it. The three victors in question stand at the entrance of the room. They mill about and try to avoid eye contact as they watch the Mayor's man servants scurry around, trying to catch the more valuable projectiles. He does this every time District Five is knocked out, but it's not usually this vicious. "I KNEW THE DAMN GIRL WOULD BE OUT EARLY," The man booms, "BUT THIS IS TOO MUCH!"

The victors look at each other with hollow eyes. He hadn't been watching? He thought it had been the girl who had died. There is a tussle to exit the room which is promptly lost by a drunk man who staggers into a wall, allowing the older woman and the eccentrically dressed man to flee the building. The Drunk Victor turns to the fuming Mayor, groaning as he clutches his liver. Sometimes being a victor is just no fun.

"Actually, Meester Rapido," The man groans, tripping and staggering into a shelf, "Eet ees your son who was the unlucky one."

There is a long, uncomfortable pause.

"Say that again."

"Seeer..." The Victor gulps. The mayor was scary, even to the man who had gouged out a girl's eyes with his bare hands and thrown her into a well.

"Say. It."

"Your son ees dead." The man gulps, before immediately slipping out of the room, his soberness returning to him for just long enough to rescue him from the ensuing slaughter. No arena Panem had ever built could prepare you to tell Mayor Heartford Rapido that his oldest son is dead. Not just his oldest son, even, but Quentin Rapido, the Career of District Five. That had been Heartford's one chance to prove to the world that District Five is not weak. That he is not weak. That just because a District breeds your Mutts and hunts your beasts, literally builds the creatures that kill them every year, does not make that District weak. He had screwed up big time, and now District Five was going to go right back to being the laughing stock of Panem. The Drunk Victor groans as he steps to his feet, tottering out of the house and off down the road, trying not to make eye contact with the younger boys and girls who sit on the stairs above him. The Mayor's children. All five surviving ones at least. The five children of the Mayor of District Five. Looks like their gonna have a rough night with their dad all mourning and roaring his head off. The Drunk Victor smiles as he is joined by the other two Victors. A Capitol announcer is probably making a joke about five children in the Mayor of District Five's family. The Drunk Victor snarls, if they are it's not funny. It's a fact of life that in District Five it pays to have a lot of children.

District Five is, after all, the Cursed District.

The Drunk Victor wraps his long coat around his mouth to protect from the cold as he stumbles through the snowy streets of their District, supported by the two other Victors.

Quentin is just the newest addition to a long line of misfortune that makes District Five a laughing stock.

The revolution of the Districts had never helped them really. If anything it has made life worse. After all, a Muttanation factory wasn't much use to the more self-sufficient District's and District Five didn't really have anything they needed, so most of the factories were shut down. Thousands had lost their jobs, the Drunk Victor included. Sure, the same had happened in District One, but then again, District One had a sunny climate and the respect of the other Districts. District Five didn't. They adapted to just growing food. District Five couldn't. First came famine, then came remorse, then hatred. And when Old Panem rebelled, well, District Five had been standing right next to them. The only Non-Career District who had done so.

The Drunk Victor's eyes roll back in his head as he takes in the other two. He supposes he should be feeling something. Another of District Five's best and brightest has been snuffed out by the Capitol. He should feel sorry, but he doesn't. It is hard to feel sorry for the Mayor's son when your own life is such crap. It's District Five winter after all. Even the rich get cold.

"Outta a' th' veectors een all the world," The Drunk Victor slurs as he is helped to his mansion by the other two, "I get stuck with ya, hic. They got Careers an' 'eroes and all, an' all we got is us three." The woman smiles down at him. She can't really tell what he's feeling, but she guesses he isn't happy.

"Don't worry." the youngest of the three, a man in his early thirties dressed in an outlandish assortment of colorful clothes and hats, says, not very convincingly. "We'll do better next year, you know it."

"Yeah, sure," The Drunk Victor groans, "An' that's a good theeng, right?" He spits on the floor and passes out. The Drunk Victor. That's all he'll ever be.

What good is wealth when you can't even remember your own name.

ESSENCE CRAYMAKER (15):

Glamor runs a hand across the girl's cheek, his face set, no emotion in his eyes. She looks beautiful, he thinks, even though he can still see the seam which connects her head to her body. He smiles sadly, his face pale and clammy as he looks down at her. He hears crying from behind him and gives way so that her family can see her. Her parents and her sister and brother need to be with her now far more than he does. He stomps away as the cameras focus out from him and back to the grieving family.

Glamor looks back at them over his shoulder. They're crying. Why? Didn't they see their daughter fighting? She was brilliant, Glamor thought. Utterly astounding. He smiles as he remembers it. The subtle parries that had confounded that boy from District Two, the devastating blows she had dealt to the Muttanation, the beautiful, moody expression which is now set on her face. As though she will not even stay trapped in death. He knows that the expression has been changed from the look of sheer terror that had stretched, unbecomingly, onto her face when that savage District Nine girl had run her through, but that hardly matters to Glamor. She is a phoenix waiting to burst forth. Everything about her was so beautiful. So why were they crying? He looks back at the family and catches the eye of Pure, Essence's twin. The boy raises an eyebrow and stares at Glamor, a look of whithering, undiluted hate on his dark face.

Realisation dawns. They aren't Careers. Not one of Essence's family is trained to volunteer. They can't appreciate Essence's beauty with her darts. Not for one second. They cry because they just don't get what there is to be happy about. And he had Volunteered her. A girl of only fifteen years old. As far as they are concerned he has not helped her unlock her true potential. He has condemned her. And they hate him for that.

She had been brilliant, beautiful and deadly. More powerful than he ever could have imagined. An angel of death whom he had realised and helped to grow.

Why couldn't they see that he had just been trying to help?

After all, 'It's better to die in combat than to die old and alone, unsure of when the Reaper will come for you. Certainty of victory or certainty of death.'

That is the first rule of the creed of a District One Career. He and Essence had recited that every day, until they could recite the entire creed backwards. It is the most important idea a Career has and, over the seven years since he had joined the Careers, it has become all that Glamor knows. All that any Career knows. He looks back at Essence's twin, who is still staring at him, eyes dark. How can anyone feel bad about such an honorable death. The alternative is just as bad, to die and have no one who remembers your name. Maybe they are just sad because he isn't, Glamor thinks. Maybe if he acts all remorseful they'll stop making such a thing out of it. They'll admit that she died well.

He looks down, his stomach churning. He tries to cry. Tries to feel sorry for his actions. Really he does. But it is impossible. And it makes him sick. She was his friend. His sparring partner. Maybe she could even have meant more to him. Should he be sad? But she had died so beautifully, the best way a Career could hope to go. Why doesn't someone tell him how he is supposed to feel? Why doesn't he already know how to feel for that matter?

Glamor growls in frustration, drawing several disapproving glares as he marches off down the street. Fighting is all a Career knows. Whole District One families have nobly sacrificed themselves year after year for the prospect of everlasting honour. So why is everyone so miserable?

It happens every year.

ARIXO VARSITY (17):

Rillion shudders as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. The satisfied hiss his little girl makes as she brings the sword swinging down, the glimmer in the eye of the large boy as he rolls out the way, the savagery in both faces. Rillon looks away as the clash of metal rings through the square. The crowd oohs and ahhs, cheering the girl who has so bravely taken on the Career pack as she ducks and weaves, throwing blows at the District One boy who dares to face her.

Rillion can't watch though. To them it is just another tribute, albeit a very skilled tribute, embroiled in a fight for her life against another of those District One thugs. For him it's quite different. That's not just a tribute, that's his daughter. He peeks back at the screen as he once again hears a pause in the clashing metal. She's chasing him now, disappearing into the forest, her face set hard in one of those Death Glares, which she has become so famous for. His mouth runs dry and he stares at his boots.

"How can I look at her?" Rillion whispers, too quietly for his wife to hear, "How can I even look at her?" He smiles sadly. But she has what it takes to win, doesn't she? She's tough, determined and a great fighter. And he should have faith in her. He's her father for goodness sake! Everyone else seems to have faith in her, after all. He looks around, staring up from his boots just long enough to take in the crowd. Daron, his oldest son, can be seen on the outskirt of the square, clapping enthusiastically, flashing confident smiles to his many friends and co-workers as he does so. Nearer the front of the crowd is the youngest of Rillion's children, Jake. The large teen is leaping up and down in excitement, cheering his sister's name every time she gets a hit on the Career. Arixo's best friend Zalley is whooping and jumping about in excitement and even Rillion's wife is smiling confidently. The meek man stops and thinks for a minute. What is he worrying about? She won't going to lose. He knows that she won't. He raises his head and opens his mouth, preparing to say something inspiring. Even if she can't hear it, he smiles, it will give her the push she needs to sail into the spot of Victor.

And then he hears the cannon, and tears well up in his eyes.

Rillion has never really been much for having his feelings hurt, a child turning up their nose at an unwanted birthday present had often sent him into depression. He pales as he watches the corpse of his only daughter tumble into the pond, Claudius Templesmith narrating feverishly. He spends hours sitting there, on the sidelines. The rest of the day is absorbed by crying, friends and the relatives of precious tributes sharing their commiserations and, more regularly than he would have generally liked, vomiting. Rillion sits there until his wife finally comes out for him once the sun has disappeared. Teary eyed, he lets her escort her back to their house.

Why had he chosen that moment to finally have faith in his little girl? It was all his fault.

APRIL CONNOLLY (15):

Ebony Raven, the mentor of District Four, watches as the short girl is pulled from the bottom of The Cornucopia, half eaten remains still clutched by the battered body of the Mutt that had severed it's head.

Her Mutt, Ebony groans. The one with her DNA. It makes her sick to think that.

She looks over at District Ten's escort, Thebes Horrors. He too seems rather red eyed, wringing his hands as the girl is loaded onto the hovercraft next to them.

"I'm glad you decided to come." Ebony mutters to him and he nods sullenly, but says nothing. "I mean, I only came along to pick up my Mutt." The woman lies, awkwardly shuffling her feet. She looks over at the Escort, who is still looking at his feet and crying into a purple and orange handkerchief which perfectly matches his hair, or fur, to be more precise. She opens her mouth and tries to make conversation

"You have a daughter named April, right?" Another nod, and still no sound can be prised from the escorts lips. "I'm sorry." The man looks up.

"You shouldn't be." He croaks, tears in his eyes "I barely knew her. Just reminded me of my little girl, that's all." He gulps and Ebony pats him on the back.

"Do you remember my Games?" Ebony asks, tossing her hair as she talks. Trying to hide the tears that are running down her own face.

"Sure..." Thebes mutters, somewhat put out by the question. Ebony smiles, she thought he wouldn't. No one ever had, and it really embarrassed her sometimes, made her feel as terrible as she thought Finnick must feel.

"Do you remember how I got into the final eight?"

"That boy from Ten?" Thebes gulps, this subject always made him twitchy, "I hear that you two are still quite popular. Uncensored versions of that particular Games are very... err... risque..." The driver glares at Thebes with the sort of look that says 'Drop it or I'm crashing this thing into a mountain'. The 78th Hunger Games always made people's skin crawl. It wasn't the sort of thing that people liked to bring up in decent conversation.

And no one had ever known, not even after 16 years. No one except her closest friends knew that she had left that particular Games with more than just the prizes the Capitol had bestowed upon her.

"It was a horrible way to die." Thebes mutters under his breath, trying as best he can to steer the conversation back into the area of reasonable conversation. It didn't pay to talk with Ms Raven about the past that had almost forced her to become the next Finnick Odair despite her relatively normal appearance. Especially not when you are standing next to Saliana Freight, Thebes' assistant and Panem's final word on good taste. "I was just asking myself 'Can you imagine what it would be like if your daughter died like that, despite doing nothing to deserve it?'"

"Mine just did." Ebony mutters, and Thebes' raises a single waxed eyebrow. He looks over at April and Ebony nods slowly. Saliana covers her mouth.

"You can't mean..."

"April was the month she was born." Ebony mutters, trying to keep the tears from flowing, "Connolly Crow was her father's name. The boy from District Ten who..." Ebony trails off, blushing, before trying to continue through a newfound spring of tears, "'Crow and Raven' they called us. Panem had a field day. I knew no one would remember his first name so, the first year I came to the Victor's meeting, I dropped her off with that wide mouthed jerk Chattle. You know, the Bloody Benefactor of the 61st Hunger Games." Thebes rolls his eyes, so that's why April had grown up in the ditches outside the Victor's Village in District Ten. Thebes nods.

"And no one knew?" He asks, astounded.

"You can hide most things if you pretend hard enough." Ebony smiles, the tears still streaming, she grabs Thebes shoulder and pretends to sob into it, whispering to him as she does so, so that no one can hear "My theory is that Ms President, her or Thorn, found out."

"You think someone rigged the Reaping?" Thebes whispers, putting his hand to his mouth so that his assistants can't read his lips.

"I stepped out of line." Ebony smiles, "We were planning to bring down the Capitol."

Thebes recoils. He wants to hit her. He wants to throw her out of the craft. It's what a Capitol man should do, he reckons. But he doesn't. He realises with a start that he has cried every year, imagining his children dying in the Games. He agrees with her. And that scares him.

"Why did you keep it a secret?" He asks, his bottom lip wobbling as they touchdown and the other Victors of Four, the Odair's and their children, help the grieving pair down, rolling their eyes at each other.

"I didn't want a Capitol girl." Ebony sniffs, "I didn't want a child who grew up thinking that the Games were OK and relishing the opportunity to kill her best friend." She pauses, "I didn't want someone like me."

"_So that's the dead! As for the others? Tomorrow will only get tougher, as the remaining nineteen battle for survival against all comers, in which only one will stand victorious. Will tomorrow be the day that decides it?"_

Arcticmist: 95

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 65 + medium pack & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 70

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 75 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 90 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 110

HelloPoppet123: 40 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 85 + claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 80

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 90

wildone97: 50 +Large pack

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 30

kuhse: 50

The Other Packman: 10

A/N: On a personal note I would like to add that both Arixo and Quentin were two of my favorite tributes, and I simply killed them because I felt that they had to die when they did, for the good of carrying on the plot. Sorry.


	22. Day 2: Sparring with Mutts

A/N: For all of you who suggested tributes in this chapter, here are the list of acceptable canon tributes who get you points:

Woof of D8 (The old man who talks to Lisa) - 10

The Drunk Victor (He was first to die in the books, being killed by Finnick, but somehow survived in this) – 10

Finnick Odair (Referenced by Ebony and also turns up with Annie, mentioned as 'Odair') - 10

Annie Odair (Turns up with Finnick as one of 'The Odair's'. Tricky but still counts) – 20

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 2**

The rain pours from the sky, soaking the skins of tributes and Mutts as they stumble across wet ground. Teagan stumbles through the trees, eyes burning from tears and rain, blood still trickling from the wound that had contained the arrow. How she had pulled it off she will never know but, as Teagan stumbles through the trees in the newly rising sun, she realises she has survived the first day, and congratulates herself for this achievement. Now it will only be a couple more days for her to keep herself hidden, and she should be a victor in no time. She hears screams, looking down below her to see Lenox, hurtling through the forest, pursued by some sort of large, glaive wielding Muttanation that looks like Demis. She sniggers. So this is that 'Ultimate weapon' that Claudius was going on about while she was easing an arrow out of her arm. Just a bunch of big, dumb Mutts. What a let down! She turns, leaping from tree to tree, the dagger at her waist a welcome reminder that she is no longer unarmed. She looks down. The Cornucopia. Not again. Teagan curses herself, she had run in a full circle, a full freaking circle!

She looks down, watching the Mutts circle the pool, fangs bared and making weird wooping noises as they lift their hands in mock gestures and swing their weapons.

And then Claudius appears on the sky and, grinning down at them from on high, a jealous god in search of sacrifice, tells them who these Mutts are, accompanied by helpful pictures for those who do not remember the tributes. She gasps, blood running cold, and suddenly she understands.

Their faces are twisted into the same savage smiles that they wore on the day, the very minute, they won. The poses are the same that they made upon victory. The sounds? That's what they said when they won. The Zard-Mutt is whooping with ecstasy, the Kyte-Mutt of District Three whimpering like a preschooler, her face set in terrified a grimace as she relives the death of her partener, the boy who had protected Kyte throughout the whole Hunger Games. The rest make sort of groans and gasps of relief, their faces set in either demoniac smiles or bitter scowls.

Teagan shivers as she watches one of the creatures stumble towards the trees where she is hiding. District 10. Broth Stoker. She gulps. The Broth-Mutt is holding a scythe and breathing heavily as it stumbles under the weight of its massive muscles. The real Broth isn't exactly a small man, Teagan thinks, and he is even more terrifying up close. He is accompanied by the District Five Mutt. It's ironic, she thinks as she lies there, paralyzed with fear, that the District Five Victor is the only one she doesn't recognise. He must have made numerous appearances at her school and, dressed as outlandishly as he is, she shouldn't have forgotten him. The Mayor, Heartford Rapido, made a great deal out of District Five victors, since their District has only won five times so far, and for once Teagan wishes she knew how the old man had won. It might have helped her to beat these, these _things_. Instead she just sits there, shivering. The Victor Mutts sniff the air, eyes dull as they stare around. The larger one, the District Eleven Mutt, looks up at Teagan and she freezes, staring into the dead eyes of the towering abomination. The thing tries to climb the tree, but its fingers slip and it constantly falls to the muddy earth. Teagan almost laughs at it despite herself, but she remembers her predicament and keeps quiet, still hoping that the creature will somehow forget about her and leave, just like the other ten have done. Teagan stares down at it wide eyed, and it looks up at her, hatred in its own eyes. The District Five Mutt follows its partners eyes, clicking its neck and reaching its hand out towards her. It looks almost comforting as it stands there, but she doesn't fall for it. She has seen people make these things, and knows that they are nothing like humans. There's something wrong with it, and she doesn't have to wait long to find out what it is, she thinks.

"_Wait for it..."_ Claudius grins as the Five-Victor's hand clicks backwards, making a sound similar to an army of buzzing wasps as it sinks into his arm. The Mutt throws its head back, a tinned chuckling sound emanating from its mouth. Teagan looks down just in time to see the cannon ball crashing through the trees, and spins out the way as it crashes past her.

Maybe it was best that she didn't know how that particular Victor had won.

She groans, still spiraling down through the tree as it is smashed into sawdust by the power of the victor's cannon. Teagan gasps as she slams into the ground head first, dazed. The Careers stop, eyes dark, and shuffle towards her, weapons raised above their heads. Teagan's eyes widen and she spins onto her feet, flinging herself into the forest and tearing away from the monstrous, shambling forms as quickly as she can.

Sometimes planning and hiding works. Sometimes, when the odds are to high, when life has left you no options, there is only one road open to you. Run. Run as fast as you can and don't look back. Look back and you die.

"_It seems to be her tactic at the moment"_ Claudius smiles.

* * *

Demis' eyes open and he bolts upright. It takes only seconds for Demis to assess the situation and realise that something has happened. Some would call it sixth sense, other may even suggest that Demis was super human, able to instantly tell that something is wrong by only subtle hints in a fashion similar to the spider themed super heroes of old. Demis found this idea quite stupid. The unusualness of the morning he has woken up to would be evident to anyone who actually had eyes.

"_It's pretty obvious to notice that something is wrong when your entire camp is wrecked, there's blood on almost every tree and an eye patch totting Irre Massenhaft is screaming blue murder in the middle of it all."_ Claudius interjects, his face lighting up at any chance to employ snark.

Demis picks himself up and spins around, glaring at the nearest tribute he could find, Blake Kaitz.

"What happened here?" Demis roars, lifting the boy off the ground and flinging him against a tree. Blake pulls himself back to his feet, seemingly unhurt, but rather irritated that his hair has been put out of place.

"Mish Arixo Varshity ish what happened." Blake hisses and pouts, eyes dark as he steps towards Demis and looks up into his eyes. Behind the two, Irre throws his head back and laughs, before howling in pain as Verain lifts his eye patch and applies rather too much iodine to the wound. "Damn girl wrecked everything. Julesh couldn't take it, she kept going on about how we were ruining everything." Demis raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, but Blake is a good actor, and the more he looks at the innocent teen, Demis can't help but feel that he is telling the truth.

"That's not something Jules would do." Demis growls, thrusting his hand into Blake's stomach and lifting him off the ground.

"She attacked me with that trident!" Blake shouts in exasperation, jabbing a slender finger at the scars stretched across his arm. He had done them himself, shortly after Jules had run off. Designed to look deep, to look bad. They are, however, not designed to cause any physical impediment, as they are actually relatively shallow cuts. Demis reaches out his hand and brushes the cut with a finger. He's not enough of a medic to realise just how shallow the cuts were, and Blake makes such a fuss of it, twisting and grunting, that Demis drops him to the ground.

"What did you do?" Demis snarls, his voice low and threatening, like a wolf who has cornered his victim and is going in for the kill. Blake gulps, licking his lips. He had known from the start that Jules would be Demis' little pet. She'd be the one he kept around to make himself feel good about killing all those other children. And he had known she would let him. She would go all doe eyed and pretend they had something special, and she would hold onto that unwavering belief until the moment he cut her throat. But he had known it would be his funeral if he had killed the wolf's little pet. Nothing could stop Demis when he was angry, and the handsome young Career knew he would have been dead in seconds. That was why he had attacked her and let her run. Then Demis didn't have his back up or any reason to be angry at Blake. He'd just done what was necessary as far as Demis is concerned. The truth is that he really doesn't care about Jules. Whether or not she is fit to help the alliance is unnecessary. But if she were still here. Well, he would have died in the night. Blake gulps as he begins to speak, not out of the frying pan yet, though. This next part will have to be handled carefully.

"I got her trident away from her." He stammers, trying to look as weak and pathetic as possible, despite his quite ascetically pleasing face. "Shtabbed her in the arm and left her there."

"Why?"

"You're the bosh, sir. I-I-I thought, shince she wash shtill our ally, you should be the one to judge what we should do with her." Demis rolls his eyes. "After all such a traitor deserves your judgment!"

"And she did all this while she was poisoned?" He asks. Blake's face sinks. Damn. He'd forgotten about that. What was he? A common Career?

Fortunately for Blake, he recovers quickly, and the stammer he has acted hides the very much real hesitance of his speech.

"S-s-she... she was... delushional." Blake gulps, and Demis screws up his eyes. He didn't know enough about poisons to know whether or not that happened. Blake seems too much of a coward to lie to him, but he can't be sure. In any normal situation, he would have asked Irre, but now doesn't really seem to be the right time, as the boy is in the middle of a tussle with fellow Career, Verain, concerning iodine in his eye.

"What's the matter?" Verain roars, punching him in the mouth, "It had to be done. It's not like your eye was going to grow back anyway!"

"It might!" Irre screams at her as he punches her back, knocking her to the ground, "Do you have any proof that it wouldn't have grown back?" Demis turns, stomping towards them and separating them with no more than an angry glare (and a solid punch to each Career's jaw).

_"What leadership!"_

"News." he barks, glaring down at the two as they pull themselves back onto their feet, "Miss Jules Radcliffe, District Four, is on the menu. You see her, you kill her. Got that." The other two nod and grin. It is about time. Demis scowls at them and turns away, muttering to Blake as they begin to come up with a course of action for the day. In the bushes, Jakob Hart watches and grimaces.

"You see that one?" He points, and Kate nods, eyes staring dreamily at the handsome figure.

"Yeah." She smiles and sighs, resting her head on the back of her hands like some sort of lovestruck school girl.

"Oh for God's sake." Jakob mutters, his accent slipping into another, equally exaggerated, one "He's trouble. If we want to infiltrate the Careers, we're going to have to get rid of him first.

* * *

Hype roars, smashing the head of another Mutt as it drew close to him. Behind him, Kayton Roys' axe slashes out at the one he has just hit, severing its head and depositing the corpse on the floor.

"You ain't half bad little lady!" Hype laughs, and Kayton jabs him in the ribs with her elbow, giving him a subtle hint to shut up and keep his mind on the slavering beasts in front of him. He spins on his toes, slapping another few beasts round the face. They seemed to be drawn by blood, and right now there were about twenty of them lining the floor of the cave, and even more were on their way.

"_We are determined to kill someone!"_ Claudius booms, _"Even if we have to release a few of the 1000 reserve Mutts that we have in bays underneath the Arena!"_

Hype gulps as one leaps at his face, gripping its jaws and slamming the umbrella down its gullet. The creature makes a gurgling sound as he draws the thing out, and falls to the floor, dead. Behind him Kayton slashes at another, severing both arms and causing it to fall forwards on the floor and be trampled under the feet of other beasts. She grits her teeth and kicks another in between the legs, praying that its anatomy is similar to a humans. The creatures face contorts, and she bats it out the way with the side of her hand axe. The creature slumps against the wall and the one behind it is greeted by an axe blow to the brain, causing the one behind that to trip and stumble. Hype leaps on this one and jams his umbrella into it, watching as it gurgles and flaps about on the ground, like a fish out of water. The two trot further back into the cave, both taking the opportunity to catch their breath and gird themselves against the oncoming horde of slavering Mutts. Hype covers his ears as, throughout the cave, a rhythmic banging can be heard. The two cover their ears and stumble backwards as the sound increases, and watch in terror as the large Mutts draw closer and closer. At the mouth of the cave, something passed by and stopped. Something massive and scaly with a ruff of heavy spines around its neck. Its face twisted into a leer of rage and its forked tongue lolling from its mouth, which is filled with rows and rows of oversized canines. On its back sits what looks like a large ape, wielding a spear and grinning down at the two tributes who are crawling further back into the cave. The Zard Frezal Mutt smiles and turns, preparing to charge towards them.

"Oh GAWD!" Hype exclaims as the abomination pelts towards them, flinging the other, smaller Mutts in every direction as it stampedes forwards. "Like, how in the hell do they expect us to survive that?"

"They don't." Kayton gulps, before turning to Hype, "You were pretty good out there, you know that?" Hype smiles and nods, before stumbling to his feet.

"Thanks, kid... I mean, boss dude." He grins, taking a few steps back and, adopting a stance similar to that of a javelin thrower, hefting the umbrella at the beast. The Zard Mutt took the umbrella in the chest unimpeded and carries on forwards as, against all odds and despite the shaking of the ground and the howls of the smaller Mutts, Hype rushes forwards, slamming his fists together as he prepares to leap onto the beast.

"Run!" He shouts after Kayton as he slugs the mount in the face, sending it stumbling backwards. Kayton doesn't move, other than stand and rush forwards to help him. He elbows her away from the beast as his other fist comes up into its jaw, and he wrenches a scale from its body and jams it down the creatures throat with a kind of psychopathic ease. The mount rears up and falls to the ground, eyes wide and staring, as the massive Victor-nation flips off of its back and lands square in front of its attacker. It slams its spear at Hype and he steps out of the way, gripping the end and breaking it, before wrenching his umbrella out of the beasts chest and opening it, sending the thing stumbling backwards, away from the District Twelve tribute. Zard clenches his teeth, spinning on his massive toes and bringing a foot up into the umbrella, ruining it. Hype glares back at him, slapping him in the face with the umbrellas remains before turning and rushing in the opposite direction. He scoops up Kayton as he passes and turns the corner, listening as the beasts give chase and clutching his side.

"Why are you running?" Kayton scolds him, "You were winning?"

"Maybe, man." Hype gulps, clutching his side as blood spurts from a wound that Kayton didn't remember Zard inflicting, "But maybe we shouldn't be fighting it! Maye we should be talking to it!"

"You're crazy!" Kayton screams at him, watching as the beasts draw closer.

"Make love not war!" Hype shouts over his shoulder at the on coming monsters.

"You want to make love to one those things?" Kayton spits and sticks out her tongue, trying to hide the fact that she found the mental image of Hype Tarick and Zard Frezal making out to be hilarious.

"Well maybe that wasn't, like, the best thing to say right now!" Hype shouts, finally admitting the stupidity of his exclamation, as he ducks and dives round corners, stopping only to place Kayton on the ground so that she too can flee from the massive Zard Frezal who follows "But running seems to be a very popular sport at the minute!"

* * *

Jules clutches her ribs, giving a sigh of relief as she finally feels the poison run out of her, before vomiting more on the ground.

"_Don't forget vomiting, Hype!" _Claudius smiles as, at the exact same moment Hype finishes his little speech, _"Vomiting is a very popular sport right about now!"_

Well, Jules thinks as she stares down at the stinking yellow pus on the ground, at least she knows how the poison exits her system now. Not that she had ever wanted to know that, but it could help in the future. She looks down and shivers. The path had been climbing for the past few hours. It hadn't looked steep when she had climbed it but, looking down, she is surprised that she was even able to climb it on two feet. Turning round she sees a cave to her left and hears muttering from inside it. A grin spreads out over her face. Tributes. Two of them by the sound of it, unless there were more who weren't talking. She grins as she stalks over to them, fists curling and uncurling, ready to pounce. She smiles widely. She'd get a weapon from them, kill them, and then she'd return to reek her revenge on Mr-O-So-Clever Blake Kaitz. She snickers to herself as she presses her body into the uneven wall of rock. She listens as one of the figures comes closer, and spins round the corner with a blood curdling cry.

Her fist catches the thin faced boy straight in the chest, sending him falling to the ground. Jules smiles and sends her foot into the boy's stomach, watching as the older tribute tries to rise. Jules chuckles to herself. This boy is pathetic, a real loser. He can't even defend himself from a little thirteen year old girl. She had been expecting an easy fight, but nothing this easy.

And she wasn't expecting the knife that comes out of nowhere and stabbed into her chest either. She stumbles backwards and trips over a wire in the dimming light. A net whips up around her legs even as she falls, and lifts her several meters into the air, leaving her hanging high in the air outside the cave.

"There." Emery smiles as she helps Phillip up and helps him back onto his makeshift crutch. Jules kicks and screams, how could they even try to hold her? A day before she'd been paralyzed. Do they really think that a net can hold her? She gulps as Emery removes the dagger, spreading blood out across her chest, and holds the blade to her neck.

"Woah, woah, woah!" Phillip soothes, stepping towards Emery and gripping her hand, "She's just a kid! You can't kill her!"

"Why not?" Emery shrugs, "We have to kill her sooner or later if we want to win, might as well make it quick."

"But it'll hurt." Phillip contested.

"I'll cut her throat," Emery says as Jules tugs at her bonds, "You're a doctor, you know that won't hurt that badly." Jules swears violently and struggles with her bonds.

"She's a kid."

"You don't remember this girl?" Emery asks, stepping towards Phillip and glaring at him. "This is the District Four girl. The Career scout! If we don't kill her she'll kill us!" Phillip glares at her and throws Jules a knife. She stares at him suspiciously, and Emery's mouth drops open as the younger girl cuts her bonds and falls to the floor with a thud.

"She's young." Phillip mutters, turning his back and limping over to sit by the wall, "We'll make it fair."

"Fine." Emery grins, trying to act tough, but her eyes are scared and hesitant and she twists the knife around in her bandaged hand, trying to avoid her . Jules grins and lashes out with her own knife. This is going to be easy.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

Left: 10 male, 9 female tributes

* * *

Arcticmist: 95

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 60 + medium pack, 3 bandages & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 70

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 95 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 110 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 75 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 60 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 45 + large axe, large knife, claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 80

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 20 medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 10 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 40

kuhse: 50

JayceeSue44227: 10

The Other Packman: 10


	23. Day 2: Thinning the herd

"_Having been queried about Hunger Games sponsorship, we at HGTV have decided to answer some of your questions as best we can. At this point every piece of purchased food will be 10 points more than it is on the sponsor list, so don't be fooled! As well as this people may sponsor any tributes they like with any number of items. If a sponsor has sponsored more than one tribute, or a tribute who is not your own, then it will be recorded in brackets next to your item. I hope this helps guys. Now back to..."_

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 2**

She couldn't leave them for one minute, could she?

The girl groans, slumping down next to a tree and stretching out her claw covered hands. She smiles as she fingers the handles of the long claws and unstraps the leather chords that fix them to her hands. She slips them back into their sheaths and draws out the large, double sided battle axe.

She had thought they'd have mostly just killed each other by day two, leaving only those tributes who she had marked out on her list as trouble. The ones who she had already come up with plans to kill. She smiles, that's why they'd sent her these weapons then. They had always been expecting her to just romp around, to slaughter and slay and stab and hack and etcetera. She licks her lips and frowns. But why does she have too? Why couldn't the other tributes just take a hint and kill themselves? It would make everything much easier for her.

Alylla Stone sighs deeply, twirling the axe in her hands. Why is she even dragging four weapons around with her? She doesn't need four weapons. Hell, she doesn't need any weapons to kill. She is, after all, the girl who had slugged Demis two days ago. She could probably kill him if he wasn't already armed without a weapon. In fact weapons probably aren't helping her, she thinks, they're a needless distraction and she'd never really learnt how to use even one of them properly, so she would probably just throw the damned axe the moment she got close and watch it rain teeth. She just didn't care that much for weapons up close. She didn't need to be carrying an axe, two claws and one of the largest knives that she had ever seen around with her to win. But hell it felt good to hold!

Alylla chuckles to herself as she hears footsteps coming closer. They are coming fast, crashing through the clearing at a manic speed, tripping and stumbling before getting back up and carrying on, panting heavily. Alylla smile widens, it sounds like someones been running for a long time. Alylla grins, gritting her teeth as she hefts the axe onto her shoulder and spins it out into the path. There is a crunching sound and something falls back into the dirt. Alylla grins, but no cannon sounds. She waits for a second, listening to the sound of scratching and clawing as the tribute tries to get to its feet, groaning as it batters on the ground. Alylla waits till the sound stops, but still no cannon goes off. She gulps, and tentatively turns the corner, staring at the thing she has attacked. The creature lies on the floor, eyes staring and lifeless. A bird, with a large red breast and black head and a long, protruding, bill. Like a humming bird, but with big, blue eyes. The eyes stare up at her and she stares back, captured by their presence. They seem almost human, as though they had been scooped out of the most beautiful man alive and implanted into the bird. She shudders knowing Panem they may well have been. She phases out this morbid thought and instead focuses on the bird before her, who seems to be glowing slightly. It takes her another moment to realise that the bird is not glowing, but rather the mist that rises from its feathers is. A sort of yellow gas exudes from it which makes Alylla feel happy despite herself. She giggles, but quickly regains composure, glaring down at the creature. Another damn Mutt. She growls, stamping on its chest and listening to the hiss as air escapes its lungs. She smiles, ripping the battleaxe out and watching as its deep red blood flows over the green grass. She giggles again, light headed as she watches the swirling blood, which seems to form into weird patterns and shapes even as she watches it. She shakes herself, punching herself in the face in order to regain sanity. She stamps on the things head to cover those hypnotic eyes, cursing as one of the thousands of miniature harpoons built into its bill pricks her bare foot. She gasps, falling over as the affected area quickly swells into a rash, as though it has been touched with poison ivy. She winces, lying the foot on the ground and then wincing again. That isn't good, she thinks as she lifts her foot again, rubbing the patch of stung skin with the hilt of the long knife. She sniffs the air as her nose begins to itch, catching a faint sweet smell, something like rose petals coated in honey. She wretches, sticking out her tongue and spitting.

Her ears prick up as an arrow whizzes into the corner of her vision, and she ducks out of the way, keeping her body close to the ground as she spins around to see who she already knows is there.

Zus Ryaov.

She grins widely. Finally. The boy she's been spending her entire Games thus far trying to kill is there, right in front of her. She slips the knife back into its sheath again, in favour of the battleaxe and one claw. This kill is going to be special, she tells herself, as the sting in her foot is dampened by adrenaline and the man sized bird disappears out of her line of sight.

A grim smile stretches over Zus' face as he loads another cruel, harpooned arrow into his bow.

"Just you and me Zus," Alylla mutters as she steps closer, somehow feeling it necessary to narrate her thoughts despite herself, "Shame you won't be able to see my victory. I'll miss you ya know, always thought we'd be the last ones standing." She twirls the large axe in her hand as she steps closer to Zus, and a single bead of sweat drips down the boy's face and off of his long nose. He repositions his fingers on the bow and gives a deep breath as he pulls back the string, widening and lowering his stance in order to give him greater strength. Alylla just spits, watching the bead as it falls to the ground with a small splash. Who cares what he does to try and make his shots better? She will cut through him just as easily.

She slashes at him with the axe, the fury of her eyes pushing into the wild arc that she attacks with. Zus doesn't even try to dodge as the axe slashes into him, but instead he releases the arrow, firing it straight into her face with a savage, uncaring glare.

Alylla stumbles back, whipping out at the boy with her claw and shredding his ribcage. She opens her eyes and looks down.

There is no blood, no pain from the arrow, not even any boy. She stands there, staring down at the tree stump that lies on the ground. Its trunk shattered, its branches raised in mock surrender. She grits her teeth.

"FOOL!" She roars, spinning round to the sound of a screeching bird call. Behind her the bird she had killed has stood to its feet, it turns its head and regards her with a single beady eye. She growls, gritting her teeth. This is all its fault. She doesn't know how, but this bird messed everything up for her. She grips her axe in both hands and charges towards it, yelling a battle cry.

She of course misses, as the bird is dead and she is hallucinating. The charge does have one bonus though, she spears her foot again.

"_The Pyriornis!"_ Claudius adds helpfully as Alylla jumps backwards, yelping, _"Imagine going on one thousand drug induced trips at once, and that's about how messed up this thing makes you! The side effects of each sting last about an hour and cause hallucinations and easy suggestibility."_

Alylla stumbles back, clutching her foot and cursing. She watches as the bird lifts into the air and bursts into flame, setting the surrounding jungle, which is now almost entirely filled with Careers, set aflame. Alylla glares around as the dull laughter of the District Seven boy, Pyro, drifts down to her ears. She grips the axe in both hands as the Careers step of the jungle, edging ever closer. Irre, Demis, Jules, Verain, Essence, Blake, Quentin, Enoch Longcast, Ebony Raven. All of them. All the one's who have ever won. Who have ever been in a Hunger Games. She glares at a massive boy who she vaguely remembers seeing in reruns of the 74th Hunger Games and twirls her axe expertly in her hands, crushing the skulls of a few, more eager, Careers. It doesn't matter whether or not this is real. Even if it's not real it's not like anyone will come near her when she's got three weapons. And besides she has something far more important than those pathetic tributes running around right now. She has killing to do.

* * *

Hype clutches his side as he staggers onwards, blood still pouring from the gash that runs down it as he trips and stumbles, falling slightly behind even the short legged Kayton who runs in front of him. He stops and takes a look behind them, watching as the slavering Zard Frezal bears down on him, its eyes wide and furious, a grin still stretched on its face as the mutt it had previously been riding scuttles and slivers behind it, too big to run in the small passageway. Hype breaks out in a sweat, looking down at the little girl by his side. He would have been faster than her normally, a combination of long legs and experience had made him an expert runner after all, but now whenever he tries to go at more than a stumble, blood gushes from his wound and he cries out in pain. Once again he stares down at Kayton in bewilderment. Had she slowed down slightly or is it just him? The little redhead looks up and grins reassuringly at him, taking his hand and helping him to run quicker.

"Like, what are you doing?" Hype manages to gasp through ragged breaths.

"Helping you." Kayton replies simply, and Hype can't help but feel a little sorry for her. Doesn't she realise that he has to die for her to win? Surely leaving him would be the best strategy. It would have been exactly what he would have done two years ago. Before Murp died. But now, he isn't so sure. Is victory really more important than staying human?

"Do I really want to be, like, a freaky monster man?" Hype whispers to himself.

"_Go on do it!"_ Claudius roars _"Make this Games actually interesting again! We need death!"_

Hype groans deeply. They are both going to get killed if this girl keeps slowing down. He still doesn't understand why she's trying to help him, doesn't she want to win?

Hype takes another bite out of the jello cube and rolls his eyes around in his head, trying to psych himself, to forget his fear and just go with it. If this girl wants to get herself killed by trying to help an injured friend, then she obviously doesn't want to win. And if she doesn't want to win? Well, he's going to have to help her out.

He wrenches the small axe out of her hand and spins on his toes, letting go of her hand and wincing as she falls onto the cobbled floor.

"_Not the best rescue ever." _Caesar Flickerman interjects, rolling his eyes.

"What are you doing?" Kayton screams leaping to her feet as Hype squares his stance, glaring at the large beast and muttering something about 'Murpman'.

"I'm, like, saving your skin!" Hype roars, eyes dark as he turns away from her. Kayton grinds her teeth and stands there, refusing to run.

"Thanks for the offer but, if anything, I'm the one who should be looking after you!"

"Yeah, yeah you're the boss. I know." Hype growls, spinning the small hatchet in his large hand. Kayton glowers up at him and his dark demeanor drops away for a minute. He smiles, she looks just like a spoilt little girl at this moment. Pouty and stubborn. His large goofy grin returns to his wide face, he can well imagine her being the daughter of the mayor back in whichever district she comes from.

"Sorry kid." Hype laughs, "You're on your own now." He stretches out his hand and grabs her top, lifting her with it and throwing her away from him. She slams into the ground and rolls over, getting up to run back and help him, but before she can act a hand shoots from the darkness and pulls her backwards.

"Time to go..." Trent whispers as he disappears into the shadows, dragging a struggling Kayton along with him. Hype grins. She's safe then. Well, safer.

"Oh God! I've doomed her!" Hype shouts as he realises that she's with Trent. His face darkens again as he turns back to the large Mutt bearing down on him. A thin, wide smile spreads across his face and he spins the axe into the creatures face as it charges into him. Hype feels the air being pushed out of his lungs as he flounders backwards, caught off guard by the sheer strength of the attacking beast. Hype gasps as the axe slips from its face. He grits his teeth and growls, slashing at the beast again and again, breaking off various bits of skin with every attack. The creature grins widely, its wounds sewing themselves back together almost as quickly as Hype can make them.

'Kill it!' The voice in Hype's head screeches, 'Bring it down!'

"Ha, sure Murp, man!" Hype drawls, closing his eyes and imagining he is back in training. He takes another bite out of his jelly cube as he brings the axe back around, slamming the creature in the side of the head with the flat of the axe, before stepping back to avoid the shower of teeth. The beast howls and shoves its spear at him, breaking a hand an sending Hype tumbling back. Hype grins as he falls back against the wall, watching the monstrous form of Zard Frezal tower over him. He smiles, taking a final bite out of the jelly and finally finishing it off.

"Think fast, dude!" Hype roars, flinging the axe straight at the head of the large Mutt. Obviously the creature does not think fast, however, as the axe severs its head and flies in a mad arc, until it finally lands in the massive triceratops like beast's eye. However, it is also rather obvious that Hype has not thought this move out either, as the beast falls forwards and crushes his ribcage.

Hype groans, coughing up blood as he lies there, among the tattered remains of the two Mutts. Well, Hype thinks to himself as he tries to stand, it looks like you're a goner. He smiles grimly, it isn't all bad though. After all, she is going to be OK, that Kayton girl, and he isn't going to turn into a monster. He looks down the passage where the girl has disappeared, watching as the Mutts who had survived being run over by Zard and his mount speed past, after the three. So there isn't going to be a District Twelve victor this year. Well, Hype thinks, Arixo should have kept her eye on the ball shouldn't she? She sure as hell knew that he wasn't going to be winning any time soon. He smiles as more blood trickles from between his lips. He hopes that Kayton wins, he thinks. He likes her.

"Hey, Murp?" he grins as he looks up at the sky, ragged breaths still forcing themselves through his lips, "I'm coming for ya buddy..." Hype tilts his head back and closes his eyes, letting out a last breath before falling back against the rock.

* * *

Emery spins on her feet, desperately dodging out of the way of another frantic knife blow. Jules grins, taking the advantage and knocking her in the chin, breaking her concentration and sending her clattering backwards in a wave of ginger hair. As Emery falls she kicks her leg out, catching the younger girl in the face and sending her tumbling back into the wall. Emery is on her in a second, shoving her to the ground and spinning the knife in her hand, but Jules is ready for her and kicks her off onto the ground.

In the corner sits Phillip, resting on his cane with a somewhat moody glare stretched out on his face and his eyes closed. He had expected Jules to run when he gave her the chance, maybe go back to the Careers and fight but to be honest he hadn''t really cared, just as long as he didn't have to feel responsible for killing her. He groans, opening his eyes a crack and watching as Emery dodges yet another slash from Jules. He gives a long, sad groan. Why did people always have to take him so literally when he tried to act tough? Now whatever happened he'd feel guilty, responsible for either the death of a little girl or his best friend. What should he do? But he already knows the answer to that question.

Phillip takes in a sharp breath, lifting a leaf from his belt and holding it to his mouth to mask the sound of his breathing, an affective strategy when using Cretavorus Prodoxide in a battle, one of the world's most deadly plants, could also be used as an air filter or muffler, letting through only clean air and filtering out larger, often poisonous, Panem built molecules. He reaches his hand up the wall as slowly as he can and grips a rock, using his other hand to rest on his cane and lift himself to his feet, wincing in pain as his leg clicks. He stumbles forward, thankful for the rock he is holding and the grass bedding they had made this morning in preparation for the long wait as the other tributes are weeded out. He grits his teeth, shuffling forwards as best he can as he leans heavily against the stick he holds in his left hand. His leg protests violently as he lifts it for the first step, but he silences it, placing it on the rocky ground and making sure it is firmly there before tapping his stick forward, using the sound of clashing metal to mask his movement. She must think that he's still sitting back there, otherwise this plan will not work. He takes another hobbled step forwards, and this time it his stomach that complains so angrily, as one of the makeshift stitches he attempted the previous evening comes loose and blood trickles from it. He gulps back tears and tries to pull himself forwards, but once again slips and falls forwards, groaning into the plant as it fills his mouth. He wretches and quickly spits it out. Swallowing would be a grave mistake. Another finger wraps its way around a small ledge and he lifts himself back to his feet, intent on carrying on.

At the mouth of the cave Jules steps back, escaping the pouring rain and moving into the safety of the cave, as Emery, sodden with rain, pulls herself to her feet and throws a shard of rock, collected from the wet ground, with her bandaged hand. The projectile misses its target by miles despite the close proximity of the small Career, slamming into Jules jaw and knocking her back. The younger girl grits her teeth, thrusting forwards and slashing at Emery's face, cutting a scar across the cheek. Emery strikes back, kicking the light girl in the chest and sending her tumbling, before lashing out at her with her fist and slamming her back up to her feet. Jules hardly has time to blink, however, when her still wobbling legs are kicked out from under her and she falls forwards, into Emery's fist. Jules grunts as she slips off of Emery's hand, falling to the floor even as Emery brings her dagger down for a killing blow. Jules was not born yesterday however, despite the appearance, and, as a Career, has learnt to think on her feet. Or off them as the case may be. She grabs Emery's thigh even as she falls and uses it to flip under the girl, in between her legs and onto her hands and knees in a rather extraordinary display that even Claudius Templesmith cheers. Jules grins, straightening up even as Emery turns and gripping her hair with a single, pale white hand. Jules grins as she wrenches down on Emery's hair, dragging the other girl, thrashing, to her knees. Jules laughs as she kicks the other girls knife out of her hand, holding the other girl up by her hair and leering down into her face.

"What were you thinking?" Jules grins, stroking the other girl's hair with her hand "I mean it's nice hair and all but, did you really think it was a good idea to keep it so..." She smiles sweetly, looking for the word as she brushes her dagger wielding hand over her short pixie do. "... Stupid? I mean, yeesh, its like that hair's just screaming 'grab me'!" Jules laughs, drawing back the blade and pressing it to Emery's neck.

"_I wouldn't do that if I were you."_ Claudius mutters, as Caesar bobs his head in agreement, _"Trying to kill people hasn't gone that well for the other tributes so far."_

It is at that exact moment that a hand shoots out from the inside of the cave and wraps around Jules' neck.

"_See."_

Jules screams as the other hand wraps up and presses something against her mouth and collapses on the ground. Phillip gasps as he drags her down, his left leg now unsupported as it collapses beneath him. He winces as his back smashes into the floor, as the younger girl falls onto him. He had to save her. He had to save Emery. This was a Career. Emery couldn't fight a Career. He grits his teeth as he reaches up to her mouth with the Cretavorus Prodoxide leaf, moving his other hand up in an attempt to force her jaw open.

Jules thrashes out with the dagger, gasping for breath as the thing that has dragged her down presses the leaves into her mouth, forcing her to gag it down as she slashes and hacks straight at him. He rolls back, groaning as blood runs down his face and pushing the leaf even further down her throat. She bites his fingers and he winces, trying to remove his fingers from her mouth as the pair thrash around on the floor. She smiles, clenching her teeth and glaring at him. Phillip gulps as the girl stops struggling, her mouth fills with phlegm and she begins to cough and hiccough, eyes wide and staring as drool begins to trickle from her mouth. He smiles, rolling her off and getting to his feet, glad that the venom kills within seconds.

"I'm glad I don't have her as a patient." Phillip groans, rubbing his neck, as Emery helps him to his feet, having been released from Jules' grip when the girl had been dragged over.

Emery smiles at him and punches him in the shoulder, but what should have been a ligh tap causes the scarred boy to stumble and fall, a small gurgle pressing through his lips.

Emery screams as blood bubbles through Phillip's hand on his neck and the hand falls away, revealing a deep, horrifyingly bloody, cut.

"Sorry..." Phillip manages to gasp as he falls sideways, collapsing into her arms as tears begin to form in the girl's eyes.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

Left: 8 male, 8 female tributes

Arcticmist: 105

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 70 + medium pack, 3 bandages & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 20 + small basket of food

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 120 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 85 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 60 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 55 + large axe, large knife, claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 80

snow leopard with a bowtie: 20

skgirl4ever: 30 + medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 20 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 40

kuhse: 60

JayceeSue44227: 10

The Other Packman: 10


	24. Day 2: Down a dark path

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 2**

Breaths come out in heavy bursts as Teagan Cooper surges through the forest, cannonballs flying after her, Mutts roaring and cackling as they stampede ever closer, flinging trees and branches out of the way, scattering Fish, Dino Mutts and even the occasional man sized bird into the undergrowth.

"_If Teagan took the time to look back,"_ Claudius drawls, _"She would probably be able to see at least one of every type of Mutt that is lurking in the jungle. Then again, if she did stop to look back, well, she'd get killed pretty quickly. Wouldn't she?"_

Teagan gasps and clutches her chest as she stumbles over twisted roots and fallen leaves. Breathes push themselves out in sharp blows as she trips and staggers to her feet. She's been running, she guesses, for at least an hour. Or at least it feels like that. But it couldn't be much more than ten minutes. After all, it isn't like she can run for that long.

Behind her she hears the scythe wielding Victornation tail off, grunting as it stops running, sniffs the air, and heads back into the trees, searching for prey. The one with the cannon continues to chase her, though, mad eyes fixed on the small girl, large fists pounding the layer of jungle debris that lies on the ground into a fine dust with every step. Teagan listens to the sound as she runs, wincing as her stomach gives another indignant kick. She grits her teeth and continues none the less. It will take more than a complaining body and a hell of a lot of lactic acid to slow her down.

Another cannon ball is, obviously, a different matter entirely. Teagan gives a shriek of surprise as the tree behind her is ripped into splinters by a massive, but admittedly poorly aimed, cannon ball. The creature behind her stops, and for a second Teagan turns to stare at it, wondering what has held it up.

The massive cannon ball which had destroyed the mighty tree just moments ago, she realises, is connected to a chain which runs into the cannon. The large creature grins up at her as it twists the handle on the side of the cannon, gradually drawing the ammunition back into the massive machine. It spins the ball towards her, but without the power of the cannon the cannon ball is too heavy to move and the creature simply falls forwards, its goggle wearing head slamming into the ground in an almost comical fashion.

Teagan wastes no time in escaping it. Dodging around the Victornstion's side and disappearing into the undergrowth. The tiny girl gasps and wheezes as she pushes through the wall of foliage, pushed on only by adrenaline and sheer will power. Her mouth is dry and her breathing heavy as she hears a soft scratching and growling off to her left. Raspy breath sounds behind her and Tegan shivers, trying to zone out the clicks and scrapes that accompany it. She pushes onwards, a little whimper forcing its way past her lips as she feels hot breath on the back of her neck, and long, cold claws stretch out towards her. She can't see them, but she knows they are there. Slithering towards her, ready to bite and tear and rip at her, to wrench her brain from her body. She closes her eyes as her leg catches on a root, twisting and falling onto the hard earth, and waits for the final blow to fall.

But, as in most scenes of this nature, it doesn't.

Teagan slowly opens her eyes and finds herself alone, lying in a clearing in the middle of the deepest part of the jungle, with a path leading to and from the clearing. Teagan smiles, looking around through tear filled eyes at the clearing. It is beautiful, with a little stream at one side, flowers growing all around and, most importantly, no Mutts or monsters in sight.

And it is of course at this moment that the javelin hits her in the back and knocks her to the ground. Teagan gasps in pain and tries to stand but, despite the fact that it isn't a deep wound in her back, she still finds it amazingly difficult. Teagan collapses on her chest, closing her eyes and preying that they just leave her for dead.

"Irre!" A girl's voice barks from behind him, sounding more annoyed than shocked that her big, one eyed companion has just speared a girl who isn't even a teenager yet in the back. "That was my kill and you know it!"

"Geez," Irre grins lopsidedly as he hefts himself over to the smaller girl and wrenches the javelin out of her back, "Sorry girl."

"Don't call me girl!" Verain snaps, slamming in the face with her fist and knocking him to the ground, "You got to kill that little weasel from District Twelve, so I get to make up for it with the next one, remember?" Verain growls and Irre nods sullenly. The tall girl grins as Irre steps away, and rolls the younger tribute over onto her back with her foot. "Lucky for you she's still alive, eh?" Verain laughs sourly and kicks Teagan hard in the ribs, garnering a soft moan for her troubles. Verain smiles, drawing a wicked looking knife from her belt and running it across Teagan's face. The small girl screws up her eyes and shivers as the knife cuts a scar into her skin and Verain grits her teeth, jamming the knife into the girl's shoulder. Teagan kicks out with her legs, trying to catch the taller girl off guard. It works, the foot catches in the back of the head and the tall girl bristles, spinning round and hacking at the offending limb with all the aggression she can muster, spraying blood everywhere as tender muscle is cut into and the smaller girl screams.

"You're that one who tried to nick my bow, right?" Verain growls as she draws the now bloody dagger out of the quivering limb and prepares to jam into it again, "I never forget something I shot at, and it looks like your other leg took quite a beating from my arrow." She laughs, leaning over Teagan as she draws back her dagger, pushing it just far enough into her chest so as to draw blood, but not be immediately fatal. Teagan gives another gurgling sob, trying to lift her arms so as to fight off the larger girl, but Verain grabs her arms, forcing them down to her sides and tying them back with vines. She stands to her feet, eyes cold and dark, and turns sharply on her heel when she hears the clashing of metal on the other side of the forest. That and grunting roars.

Demis.

She looks around, Irre has already disappeared into the dense jungle and is heading towards the sound. She grins to herself and rushes after him. This is a chance to catch Demis off guard. A chance to finally get the respect and admiration she deserves. She's not just going to be sitting around next to some snot nosed little kid, torturing them.

Teagan tries to raise her arms, tries to move from the ground as best she can, but she just doesn't have enough energy left to do so. Blood, sweat and tears roll off of her body as the rain, that weird tasting brown rain that has been falling all day, mixes them all together in a large, misshapen pool of mud. She winces as she pulls against her bonds, but it's useless. The vines are too strong. She is too weak. The mud is too slippery. And the jungle around her is filled with noise. Yowling and purring breaks through the tree line, and hard, booted feet squelch into the soft mud as the tall, goggle wearing Victornation with the cannon steps into the clearing. Like he's been waiting for the Careers to leave. Which of course, she thinks, he has. The man grins at her, stepping back to allow the Mutts to scuttle around him.

Fish. Fish with four legs and massive teeth and fur. Not scales, fur, sprouting all over their bodies as they cheap and hoot. She stares at them in horror as they scuttle towards her, their fishy tails pulling back into their bodies, only to be replaced by long, thin ones. Webbed feet change and morph, claws sprouting from them and thumbs growing. Teagan tries to scrabble away as the 'Fish' descend on her, now looking less like fish than ever. Their faces twist and change, blinking as rudimentary snouts and necks grow and vicious fangs sprout. Teagan has just enough time to think about how horrible it will be to be eaten alive when the Victornation turns its cannon on her, eyes sparkling as it prepares to fire.

The Mutts cover her in a carpet of teeth. And, when the Victor fires...

She's sure that it's her cannon that's going off.

* * *

Another cannon goes off and Pyro shivers slightly. He doesn't know why he just sort of does. The hulking man crouches low, skulking in the shadows. Well. As much as you can call it skulking really. More like trying desperately to look like a large lumpy rock with no hair and lots of scars. Pyro grins widely at the thought. It could happen he guesses. After all, he doesn't know much about rocks. Really it doesn't surprise him that no one's been up this way yet. After all, it's not like anyone else is afraid of rain or anything. Pyro grins again. Well, except for that white haired girl. The nice one from Eight. The smile widens. The one he is going to have to kill so that he can go home. That doesn't really matter though, he decides, after all it's not like he knows any of these people. All he has to do is wait for them to burn to death in his beautiful, twinkling fires. Pyro turns his head and looks up from the rock plateau on which he lies to the smoldering jungle above him. Smoldering? He would have thought it would be blazing by now. The face sags and screws itself up into a sideways leer. God he hated rain. It was going to ruin his plans to end this easily. Now it looks like he is going to have to actually kill people. Shame. He shouldn't have saved Drowny Girl from the Cornucopia should he?

The hulking man groans, pulling himself shakily to his feet and walking to the edge of the rock. Pyro had never liked to think big. It just wasn't his way, small is best for him and it always will be. He chooses his plans in the same way he chooses his friends. Don't have to many at a time and spread them out as thinly as possible. Don't have more than one at a time in other words. Thinking about it, he decides, he is in fact a very clever man. A perfect combination of strength and intelligence.

"_And trauma. Don't forget that!" _Claudius smiles, adding an extra item to Pyro's mental list.

Pyro looks around for a while, eyes dark as he inspects the surroundings. No one seems to be around at the moment. He guesses that it gives him time to think.

Suddenly something lands on his back, sticking thin fingers into his shoulders and trying to cover his eyes as whatever it is fumbles for a knife at its belt. He looks round for a second and is immediately caught in the face by a crop of curly, black hair.

Drowny Girl. Lenox Cartet. He thinks. Behind him something lands. A large creature holding a glaive in both hands and snorting through its nose.

"Hell is that!" Pyro shouts, slurring the words that fall from his mouth in the same way he normally does and wishing that he'd watched the sky for their last announcement.

It doesn't take much brain (which is fortunate seeing as Pyro doesn't have much brain) for Pyro to work out what is going on. Lenox is trying to use him to distract the Mutt. Stab him in the back and leave him bleeding for the Mutt to finish off. Well fine. Pyro backs until he is right on the edge of the plateau and looks down. The jungle that holds the Cornucopia above him, the unknown below. He smiles. Well whatever. Unknown is better than dead he thinks. And the lower jungle looks dryer than the upper. And quieter too, easier to destroy. He grins lopsidedly and takes a step back, pitching himself and the girl over the edge just as the Mutt jumps at them, and the girl manages to draw her knife. Pyro smiles, grabbing the large Mutt and dragging it down with him. That'd teach it for trying to kill him. It'd teach Drowny Girl something too. Heck, he'd sure be learning something from this he thinks as his back hits the hard earth. Don't jump off cliffs.

Pyro grins. Turns out his brain is funnier than he thought. He almost laughs out loud, but the idea of swallowing twigs if he opens his mouth is not pleasant, and stops him quickly. So he just knocks himself unconscious instead. It's just easier that way.

* * *

Jakob gives another long groan, his eyes dark and ringed as he tries to focus. It has been a rough night, Jakob decides. After all, having to stay up to make sure that camping some five hundred yards away from the Careers doesn't have fatal consequences has made his neck ache. And he hadn't exactly been in the greatest of shapes before either. He stretches and marches through the trees after Kate, who had been sent off just a few minutes earlier when the Careers had left their base to start hunting.

"Have you found any of them?" Jakob groans, lifting the tape recorder to his mouth and muttering into it. "My assistant and I," He grins, totally ignoring Kate's sleep deprived glare, "Are now within the confines of the Career camp. And loving it might I add."

Kate winces as she picks up the now disarmed explosive and drags it over to where they have piled the Careers supplies, hiding it within the mass of equipment before beginning to try and reactivate it.

"It's an X-29," She smiles, stroking it and staring down at the beeping light as if it can see her, "I used to make these things for the Capitol back before they bought in those new models. Shame really, there's a certain beauty in these old things."

"And you call me mad just because I'm talking into a recorder?" Jakob grins, "A recorder can speak back you know? I don't know much about a bomb, but I'm pretty sure they don't make good boyfriends!" Kate glares at him and then goes back to placing the bombs, her head bobbing as she tries to keep her head up. Jakob smiles. They were both used to late nights, after all Kate had worked in the bomb makers and he had made music boxes for the Capitol.

"So remind me why I'm doing this for you?" Kate asks, scratching the back of her neck and pushing a greasy hair out of one eye.

"We're going to place bombs inside the Career's pile of supplies."

"Like in the 74th Hunger Games right?"

"I see you saw the replays." Jakob drawls.

"How did that end again?" Kate smiles, lifting a finger to her mouth in a contemplative manner. Jakob laughs wearily and steps towards her.

"But that's not all our plan, is it?" He snickers, yammering into his recorder again, "This is just a way for us to get what we want right. And all we've got to do is wait."

Sure, they could take late nights. But this was too much. You couldn't go for long when you were fighting for your life. Jakob smiles wearily, eyes drooping as he sits down on the ground. He needs his beauty sleep.

Jakob can barely hide his smile when he hears footfalls against the soft mud, squelching and sloshing in the mud as they gradually come to a halt.

"What." Demis says, his voice flat and bereft of emotion as he comes to a stop on the edge of the clearing, Blake Kaitz sauntering up behind him and leaning casually against the tree as he brings himself to a stop. Kate jumps and drops one of the partially deactivated bombs, watching as it sparks and a little trail of smoke rises from out of the bomb. Jakob spins on his feet, staring in wide eyed horror at the two Careers who have just entered the scene.

Excellent.

"What'sh going on?" Blake grins widely, taking a couple of steps towards the two District Three tributes and drawing a long, thin knife from his backpack. Jakob smiles widely, trying his best to look like he is trying his best to look confident. Blake grins widely, flipping a hair out of his handsome face as he circles the pile of supplies.

"What are you doing?" Blake asks, his voice dropping into a casual drawl for a second, and Jakob can't help but smirk slightly. It takes a good actor to recognise a good actor, and Blake is an excellent one. Blake growls, leaping forwards and slapping Jakob around the face, knocking him to the ground. "You were trying to kill us off!" Blake growls, "Weren't you? Weren't you?" Jakob raises his hands and grins.

"Guilty as charged." He sneers, mimicking Blake's voice almost exactly. Demis roars, leaping over fallen trees and roots and sloshing through mud, grabbing Jakob and lifting him as Blake launches himself at Kate, pinning her to the ground and pressing the knife to her neck so that she can barely move.

"Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwaitwait!" Jakob shouts raising his hands as Demis slams a fist into his face. "Don't kill me! I can help you!" Demis laughs.

"How can you help me?" Demis barks, "I'm a Career, you're just a corpse." Jakob winces at that, for once showing some genuine fear as the tall eighteen year old wrenches a sword out of the large stack of weaponry and prepares to strike. Demis grits his teeth and swings the sword down towards him, eyes wild as he watches the other boy's eyes widen and his lip quiver.

"CLAWS!" Jakob shouts and Demis spins the blade up and out the way of the younger boy's face, grazing the other tributes face in his haste.

"What did you say?" Demis snarls as Jakob falls to his knees, clutching his bleeding face in his hand. Nearby Blake steps back, bowing in an overblown fashion and helping the girl to her feet. He could tell when something important was about to happen, and it wasn't a good idea to kill the girlfriend of a possible aid. He grips her arm nonetheless, just in case she might plan to run off. He didn't want to lose a possible kill.

"Claws. They're what you want aren't they?" Jakob smiles thinly, "I watched you at the Cornucopia on the first night. You seemed really eager to get them."

"So?" Demis growls, kicking Jakob hard in the stomach in an attempt to draw out a comment.

"I-If I tell you, promise you won't kill me or my partner." Jakob groans, trying to stand.

"No. I'll give you ten seconds running time. You say something I like, you get longer. Don't like, take a wild guess." Demis smiles, and Jakob shrugs.

"Close enough." Jakob says, and he clicks the button on his tape record, setting it to record as he begins to speak "Alylla Stone's got those claws you know?"

"The ***** from Nine?" Demis growls, touching the black eye he sustained in the fight with her tenderly. "I know. Eight seconds."

"She took them from the Cornucopia and is now hiding out in the jungle, trying to hunt you down."

"Five seconds." Demis mutters.

"And beat you up." Jakob groans, ringing his hands in desperation as he searches for words, for once lost within his own mind.

"Three seconds." Demis whispers to him, "Say something I like or you and your little girlfriend get it." Demis clicks his fingers and Blake presses a knife to Kate's neck, grinning like some sort of demented Cheshire cat. "Any last words, District Three?"

Jakob smiles, and reaches up to pick a rudimentary device out of his pack.

"I placed a tracker on Alylla as she fled the Cornucopia." Jakob smiles, "I know exactly where she is. I can lead you to her. I can find you the claws you so desire, and you can take them for yourself." Demis stands back, stunned by Jakob's words, literally speechless as he stares down at the quivering boy on the floor. "I'd say ten minutes running time will suffice. Shoo shoo." Jakob smiles, waving the large man away from him. He grins staring down at the detector as the two Careers growl, stalking off to the other side of the clearing. Blake hisses as he passes by, catching Jakob's eye and glaring at him with all the hatred in the world. Jakob grins widely back. There is only room for one bright jerk in this alliance.

"Was that supposed to happen?" Kate asks him as she scurries over to him.

"No." Jakob states. "No, I believe that our plan to blow them all sky high went completely astray."

"So what the heck was all that about claws?"

"Lets just say it was a lucky combination of acting and sheer bull." He smiles, lifting the detector and staring down at it with twinkling eyes. "And of course the help of a bunch of badly battered mechanisms." He lifts the monitor and turns it to Kate for long enough for her to tell that it is simply a mass of utterly ruined scrap metal, twisted into a pseudo-scientific array and made to look big and important. "The machine does nothing."

Kate grins at him, turning on her foot and heading off into the undergrowth.

"This way!" Jakob shouts, trotting after her.

"What about Alylla?" Kate whispers to him as he catches up. Jakob almost laughs.

It doesn't matter that he doesn't know where the heck Alylla is.

"She'll come to us." Jakob shrugs, "She may not like the idea but she's still heavily armed and big headed. She's practically a Career."

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

Left: 8 male, 7 female tributes

* * *

Arcticmist: 25

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 80 + medium pack, 3 bandages & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 20 + small basket of food

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 130 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 95 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 60 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 75 + large axe, large knife, claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 80

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 40 + medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 30 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 40

kuhse: 70

JayceeSue44227: 10

The Other Packman: 10


	25. The plot and jungle thickens

A/N: I apologise for the lateness of this update, it's GCSE time here in England and my exam timetable is therefore very crowded, so I haven't had much time to write. An easy ten points for anyone who can tell me why Blake isn't wearing a shirt (Clue: It's not just because he's a showoff)

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 2**

Scratch lies low, keeping close to the tree line as he edges further from the Cornucopia, his mind aching with different thoughts and feelings.

Zus Ryaov.

That had been it hadn't it? He'd shot him. He'd left him on the ground to die. Scratch grits his teeth as he pushes a branch out the way and stumbles over it, clutching his stomach with his hand as a stabbing pain like a scythe cutting into barley shoots through it.

"Can't... let him... go." Scratch splutters as he pulls himself over another log, tripping and landing painfully on his face. Zus had hurt him. He'd hurt him bad. And Scratch knew that his family needed him alive. Killing him would be sentencing his family to death. Therefore hurting him was like hurting his family. And no one hurt Scratch's family and got away alive.

But Zus wasn't the only problem here. Scratch sniffs the air like a dog and hefts himself up on a nearby tree. Lenox is still out there. Still alive. And that is where the problem starts. Scratch gasps in pain as his stomach wound complains again and throws himself back down against the tree, slumping his shoulders and gripping his stomach.

"It's just not fair." Scratch grumbles to himself, "Lenox is my friend. I don't want to kill her."

"_Well you should have thought about that before you were forced to participate in a deadly games show against your will, shouldn't you?" _Claudius comments dryly, _"Cheek."_

Scratch stretches his hands up infront of him and sighs loudly, stretching the bandages around his stomach and wincing. Lenox is his friend. He can't kill her.

But she is keeping him from his family. Keeping him from the people who need him. And anyway, she's a volunteer. She knows what she's getting herself into. And that just makes Scratch sick. Because she hasn't realised that she's in far over her head. She doesn't understand how very selfish she's being. Every second she's alive is another second he's kept from his family.

"She can't handle this anyway." Scratch confusedly reassures himself as he lifts himself to his feet. "I'll be helping her out. I'll try to make sure it doesn't hurt too much. Not like that damn Zus." He clutches his side and lifts himself to his feet, skulking forwards through the trees as he hears the sound of cracking twigs and branches coming from somewhere close to him, spinning the small flint rock, which he has been using as a knife, in his hands. Through the layer of trees he can see a few Fish, scuttling away from what looks like some unfortunate Dino Mutt, lying limp on its back as the Fish tear bits off and disperse into the trees.

"_Is Fish really the best name for them now?"_ Caesar asks Claudius as the two narrate from on high.

"_Good point,"_ Claudius shrugs, _"They do kinda look more like monkeys now. All furry and thumby and teethy."_

Scratch moves his hand up as he skulks closer, swiping away a leaf which is tickling his nose as he pushes through the clearing. No sooner has his hand moved away from his nose however, when he splutters in disgust and covers his nose again, the stench of blood overpowering his nostrils and distracting him from controlling his emotions. giving Fear ample time to waltz nonchalantly into his brain, shoot something and demand to be 'taken to the leader'.

Scratch shivers as he edges closer to the beast, well aware that Mutts could burst into the clearing at any moment. But he is well aware that the best of the food he had managed to catch had been given to Lenox (back when he still thought he could save her) or had been eaten by him. He couldn't find any plants in here that were edible either, but then again, the trees are so tightly packed it is impossible to tell. He steps closer to the Mutt. It looks pretty edible. Maybe the Mutts have left some food on it, he thinks, as cold sweat trickles down his spine and his eyes flick around the tree line, searching. Just as long as he wasn't the main course, he might just get a good meal. He groans as he kneels down next to the body and touches its skin. Blood comes away on his fingers and he quickly draws his hand away, unfamiliar with blood as, inside his head, Fear is commandeering the central workings of his brain and using it to play Pong with his insides. His heart thumps in his chest as he turns over the blood stained hand and looks at the clump of gory, stuck together red hair that sticks to his hand. He stumbles to his feet and steps around the body, finally recognising the half-eaten, battered and blood stained form which lies at his feet.

Teagan Cooper.

Little drips of water wash the blood off his hand as the tall tributes eyes and nose stream with silent tears. Salty water seeps down his face and into his mouth, but he barely notices as he turns and flees in the other direction, Fear having taken up residence in his brain eaten everything and jumped on all the beds, before getting bored and gone for a long shower.

* * *

Kayton groans and covers her eyes as she steps out into the receding light of the evening, checking behind her to see that the other two, the tall dark haired demon and the little white haired ghost, are still behind her. She wants to make sure that they stay close to her. Close enough for her to see. It's not that she trusts them, she realises with a start, no, she certainly doesn't trust them. Both of them are bad news. The tall boy who still whispers orders into her ear, and the little girl who keeps nearly disappearing into the shadows. The one who keeps looking at her funnily. And in a way that's what she's afraid of. There's no hostility in the girls eyes. Well, there was. But there isn't anymore. It has all burnt out, eaten itself away out of pure hate. Leaving nothing. Nothing to see at least is left in the girl's eyes. They're just dead shells now. Giving nothing away. And Kayton knows that she looks exactly the same. As did the small, dead form she had found in the Cornucopia. As had Alylla Stone when she fled the Cornucopia. And so did Splinter and Johannah and all of District Seven's Victors. As had everyone, except for Careers and Pyro. Their stares held something worse, she knew, even though she could not see them. They still had their heads. Well, what little heads they had had when they entered the Arena. They didn't care that people were dying. They were happy.

"We camp here..." Trent mutters as he plonks down on the ground, swinging the only Mutt that had managed to follow them off of his shoulders and cutting its lifeless form open on the dark stone ground. "It's hard to get to... Easy to get off..." Kayton looks down at him, suspicious. She can't see his eyes. It's not right to not be able to see someone's eyes. It makes them look dead. And Trent already looks pale with all that black hair and dark bags. If he looked any more dead she would have mistaken him for a zombie. And the worst part. She could tell he meant to do that. He knew that she and Georia were curious and against each other. Because he could see their eyes. But they couldn't see his. How could they ever tell what he was thinking. She wanders over to him, crouching down next to him and smiling, but the tall boy doesn't respond. She looks down at what he's doing. Skinning the carcass, removing the giblets and the innards, she gulps and looks away and he flashes her a smile. It's just another job for him. Just another day at work with the animals. The only thing that's different is that he's slicing a Mutt not a cow. Kayton pulls her eyes back to him. It's kind of like cutting down a tree is for her. Capitol kids would call it skill. They wouldn't know where to start. They'd probably end up getting crushed by a falling tree, she thinks, smiling at the thought of Capitol kids trying to cut down a tree. She'd just do it, wouldn't think twice about it. That was what Trent was doing now. What he'd been taught.

"You OK?" She asks him, finally finding words to try and strike up a conversation.

"We lost Hype..." He mutters, "We're all dead..." He tosses his hair and turns away, and for one second Georia, who has been hiding in the shadows at the back, catches sight of his eyes. Sparkling blue pits, filled with plans and deceit. The only bit of him that looks alive. The exact opposite of everyone else. Georia gulps and grips the rock behind which she hides tighter. Trent is bad news, she can tell just by looking into those savage, twinkling, eyes. He killed Alew and now he'll kill her. Her mouth runs dry as she watches Kayton sitting next to Trent, saying something she is too far away to hear. She has already decided that these two are in it together. They're planning to win by lulling her into a false sense of security. So that they can run her through as she sleeps and then make good their escape. But she isn't going to let them do that. She isn't going to be tricked by them like Hype or Alew were. She's going to keep her head, she's going to stop them from killing her. She smiles to herself. She knows all the answers now. Everything they can possibly use to trick her. Just one question remains and whatever her answer it will have to be done tonight. She can't wait any longer unless they strike. But it's such an important question, and one that she doesn't know whether to answer. Give in to fear or be a good person? Run away, or kill them tonight?

* * *

"Where is she now." Demis growls as he leads the troop of four through the dark jungle canopy.

"Just to the North sir!" Jakob whistles, eyes bright as he stares at the rapidly bleeping monitor.

"Stay here then." The tall Career barks, galavanting off through the trees in search of the girl. Jakob watches the man with interest as he disappears through the trees, Demis is smiling thinly and marches on, vaulting over logs and crashing through bushes like an engine of war, clenching and unclenching his fists as he anticipates the claws, that Alylla holds, in his own hands. Jakob grins widely to himself as he trots behind the larger tribute. He stops as a hand rests on his head, and spins on his heels to see Blake Kaitz standing behind him, his tanned hand resting on the younger boy's head and a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Jakob." He whispers, all sound of a lisp or stutter vanishing to reveal the voice of a casual actor. "How's it going?"

"Could be better." Jakob admits, scratching his head in thought, "I mean, I'd be a lot happier if I wasn't in imminent danger of dying every second. Blake laughs and pats Jakob on the back, eyes sparkling as he steps closer to Jakob to whisper in his ear.

"So. How would you like to be in the final eight, Jake?" He asks, fixing his eyes on Jakob's as he tries to spot an sign of hope. None come.

"Like that's gonna happen." Jakob laughs, but Blake smiles and puts a hand on his shoulder.

"It could. We're both bright guys, right? And I know that you want to keep alive for as long as possible..."

"Guilty as charged!" Blake glares at the boy. He doesn't like being interrupted by anyone, especially not some little know it all.

"... Well, anyway. How'd you like a truce? We could get rid of Demis right here and now if we put our minds to it, and I doubt you'd need Kate if I were around, but you never know I might let you keep her. If you need her that bad. After all I've been there. The rest of the tributes would be easy pickings and, right at the end. well, we could have a proper one on one to decide who lives."

"Tempting..." Jakob muses, his voice low and contemplative as he takes his finger off of the record button on his recorder, "So let me ask something. Why me?"

"You're clever and you're a kid. I have a heart you know..."

"_That's debatable!"_

"... I don't want to have to kill a kid." Blake mutters, literally lying through his teeth. He hears a click and stares down at Jakob, who appears to be tapping his screen. Blake growls again, and is about to swipe the machine off him when Jakob pipes up again.

"So, you don't want to kill a kid? So where's Jules?"

"I let her run." Blake shrugs, "Told that idiot of a Career infront of us," he points at Demis, "That she went crazy. Heh. Retard believed every word. Really I never expected anything of her. Just a kid. She's probably dead by now. So, what do you say, partner?" Jakob screws up his face in mock frustration as he thinks, before grinning widely at Blake and delivering his verdict.

"No."

"What did you say?" Blake growls, his fingers tightening on Jakob's shoulder and the muscles on his chest rippling as he pulls back, stopping the boy dead in his tracks.

"No." Jakob repeats, Blake glares at him and his grip increases, causing Jakob to wince as his shoulders bruise.

"Are you sure?" Blake hisses, licking his lips like a snake, his muscular body rigid with anger, "I can be very persuasive."

"Pretty sure." Jakob shrugs, before beginning his speech, changing voices constantly as he goes "Let's look at the facts OK. I am holding all the cards. I've got something Mr Boss Man from District Two needs, so he's gonna want to keep me around. Hell, if Mutts attack he might even protect me. Imagine, little old me, the loser from three being protected by you big, strong, macho boy Career types. I'd say that's a pretty good position. Soon as you kill Demis that's out the window. So seems like I'm in a pretty good position. Secondly, Kate isn't what you think she is to me. I'm not some manipulative jerk, OK, I keep her around because I need someone to see how very clever I am, not for the sick reasons you think. I mean God! What the hell is with you!" Jakob stops, panting for breath, as Blake stares disdainfully down at him, before quickly finishing his speech, "Oh yeah and I guess I've got this monitor thing to... So yeah, I don't think I'll be taking that offer of an alliance anytime soon."

Blake looks down at him and grins widely.

"Oh really? Heh. We'll just see about that now, won't we?" Blake laughs, going to step away from Jakob, but the younger boys hand shoots out and grabs his wrist. Blake turns back, smirking.

"Fair warning." Jakob begins, "Your plans won't work on me. I'm far too clever for you. Whatever trap or trick you set up, I can dismantle it in literal nanoseconds." Blake grins, throwing back his head and laughing. Jakob stares at him in interest, and is on the floor in a second. He had been concentrating to much on Blake's face. He'd completely ignored Blake's leg, which had spun up into Jakob's side, and was followed by a quick chop to the boy's shoulder, forcing him to let go of Blake's hand and sending him into the ground. Kate, who has been milling over by the side of the path, inspecting a plant that looks like it might be made of wire and lights, rushes over to Jakob's side, pulling Jakob to his feet and glaring at Blake.

"Aw. Jakey's wittle girlfwiends come to help him?" Blake simpers, Kate glares at him and swipes her hand across, meaning to slap him, Blake just smirks, grabbing her hand and twisting it round, throwing her to the floor. "I don't need any plan to kill you Jake. I can just break your neck." He turns and walks away, his lisp and stammer phasing back in as he senses Demis return, "Shleep well kidsh!"

On cue Demis bursts through the trees, eyes dark as he lifts Jakob of his feet.

"There wasn't anyone there kid!" He growls, "Not one stinking fly."

"She's moved over." Jakob smiles, although the smile is slightly more hesitant this time. "People walk around you know?" Demis growls and lets him drop, turning and marching over to Blake, throwing something that looks like a watermelon sized apple at his feet.

"That's tonight's dinner." He barks, "Get cooking. We camp here tonight." Blake bows low, still somewhat aggrieved by the weak and whimpering facade he has had to play. It doesn't really work with his muscular body, he has decided, and really takes some getting used to. Meanwhile Kate helps Jakob to his feet, noticing almost immediately that he's grazed his side. He winces when she touches it and she rolls her eyes. What a baby.

"Looks like your plans screwed." She mutters to him.

"Oh you don't say." He snipes back, sarcastically, "I thought everything was going just swimmingly. You know I particularly enjoyed getting smacked around by that pretty boy!"

"You sure do complain." Kate grimaces, opening the boy's back pack and taking out a roll of bandages, "It's hardly even a scratch!"

* * *

The tall, dark skinned figure glares down at the four figures as they make camp. So the jerk offs from District Three were with the Careers now? Fine. They came from the right district after all. Low numbers and all that. He'd wait till they split up, the tall figure thought. It wouldn't take long and he knew that Demis would be able to kill the other three in a matter of seconds. Good job to, because he doesn't like the look of the bow that girl was carrying. It looks like she might actually be an OK shot, and the tall man doesn't want to run the risk that someone might shoot back. That was why he hadn't followed the Career girl. But anyway. It wouldn't take long. All he had to do was wait for the big dope from Two to kill off the other three. And then?

"It'll only take one arrow." The man growls as he fingers his bow, "One ******* arrow."

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT

Left: 15 tributes; 8 male, 7 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 25

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 80 + medium pack, 3 bandages & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 20 + small basket of food

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 130 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 95 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 60 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 75 + large axe, large knife, claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 80

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 40 + medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 30 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 40

kuhse: 70

JayceeSue44227: 10

The Other Packman: 10

_Next chapter should be on Sunday. If not check back on Tuesday for a possible update._


	26. Day 3: Banquets with Death

A/N: The first section of this is deliberately confused and indistinct. Just so you know that my brain hasn't killed itself and I am still sane! Also, the reason Blake doesn't wear a shirt is because everyone in the Hunger Games are dressed in animal furs (kind of like cavemen)

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 2 / 3**

Georia stumbles to her feet as the other two settle down on the ground, preparing to go to sleep. She smiles to herself, pleased that the other two can't see her, but sad that they haven't fallen asleep by now. She stashes away the small, sharpened rock that she armed herself with and shuffles slowly backwards, making sure not to break any of the numerous twigs that have fallen into the tiny clearing from the weird hanging trees above.

Just ten meters away from the trees, she tells herself. Ten meters away from salvation.

They aren't asleep, Georia laments to herself as she tries to climb over a branch without making a sound. If they were asleep she could kill them, she thinks. Slit their throats while they lie there and finally rid herself of that monstrous demon with the hair over his eyes and the whispery voice that keeps tailing off. She shivers just thinking about it, stumbling and almost crashing down onto dry bark that litters the ground. Someone from District Eleven or Seven probably could have told her what sort of bark it was, but to Georia it is just one thing. Noisy bark. The type that explodes when your foot touches it and sends little shards everywhere. The type that makes a cracking noise when you just brush it with your toe. The type that burns really well. It burns really well...

Nine meters to the trees.

Georia gives a little jump and looks around her frantically, fearfully searching the tree line for the massive figure of Pyro, who could be hiding behind any of the larger trees. Unable to spot him, however, Georia continues, trying her best to lift her left foot over the various bits of debris. She groans, still unable to contain her terror at the thought of Pyro actually watching her, grinning like a loon and lifting his lighter. Setting them alight like candles. Her mouth runs dry.

Eight meters to go. Seven meters. Six.

She can't let him find her, can't let him kill her. She has to get to Zus. Has to ally with him, has to kill the dark creature behind her. Trent Flee. The one sitting next to the fire, his sweaty skin glistening in the moonlight. She has to kill him. Them. The boy from District Ten and the one from Seven. They both have to die. She can't let either of them do it, she hisses, gritting her teeth. Not to her. Not with fire.

Five meters now.

Kill her that is. She can't die because of fire. It's too hot, too quick and she's far, far too tired for that at the moment. Hell, she's too tired to even think straight. She can't keep on task, she needs to rest, needs to escape, needs to find Zus, needs to avoid the Mutts and the fire needs to kill Trent, Kayton and Pyro. And her head is so full to bursting with things that she needs to do that, for a second, she does none of them, and instead just stands and spins on the spot, wondering if she should head back to camp for food and kill them as they sleep, or run now. She's so tired and hungry. But she can't trust Trent, she knows she can't, and Kayton's armed, and Hype and Alew, the ones she could trust, the ones she was going to take with her to the final eight and then maybe let win, they were dead. And she can't stay near the fire.

And there's only Four meters left to go.

She smiles to herself as she pulls away from the two figures, lost in half awake conversation behind her, hardly remembering that she exists as she slips away. She turns her mind back to surviving. She's thirsty now too. Hungry and thirsty. But she can't go to the ponds can she? There was something that Claudius said about almost drowning earlier. And she might fall in. And she can't swim. Her mouth twitches in complaint and she almost laughs.

Hungry and thirsty and afraid of water.

Hungry and thirsty and afraid of water and fire.

And only Three meters from the tree line. So close.

It's ridiculous, she muses. Being afraid of both fire and water. The Capitol would be rolling in the aisles if they ever found out. She looks down at her scarred leg. They don't know, she snarls. She has good reason to be afraid. Ever since she was a child. She's been small. Small and weak. And so very unlucky. She was afraid of fire because it had burnt down her house shortly after she was born. She was afraid of water because she had almost drowned at the age of two. It was simple. She had good reason to be afraid. She grits her teeth as she drags herself over yet more bark and twigs. Something else, different from her thoughts fills her already crowded head, emptying it and making it clearer. She has to get out. She pushes forwards, trying to get to the jungle wall as quickly as possible.

Two meters to go.

Her vision clouds, her feet crash through bark and roots as she tries to get to the dark, twisted jungle. The bark shatters and cracks, breaking the conversation that both tributes are having near the fire and the two spin round to see Georia. Trent pulls himself to his feet, rubbing his eyes as he shuffles sleepily towards her. Her eyes a drawn to the savage looking ax that adorns his belt and she takes a step back, raising her hands up infront of her face and batting away imaginary blows that have not yet come. She has to fight him. She has to fight. She has to flee. She has to find Zus. She turns and runs.

One meter left.

No meters left.

Georia reaches the jungle canopy at the very second that Trent collapses on the ground, the sleeping agent that the Capitol had employed on the first night taking effect quickly. Kayton is next to slip into unconsciousness. Georia moves her had up and rubs her eye, which is sore and heavy, stung by the gas even as she breathes it in. She stumbles forwards and clutches a tree. Her nails dig in as she tries to pull herself up, but her eyes are so heavy. She has to find Zus. She has to find food. She has to escape from here.

"Why do I have to be so unlucky..." Georia mutters as she curls up on the ground and falls asleep.

* * *

"_Trrr-ibutes!" _Claudius chirps as Lenox finally comes to, _"Day Three kids! So, four deaths yesterday, eh? Hype, Phillip, Jules and Teagan won't be joining you this morning, I'm afraid!"_

Lenox opens her eyes a crack and groans, shivering as the cold bites into her. Cold? But it was a jungle. She sits bolt upright, ignoring the fact that her head had been lying on Pyro's chest for what must have been the past eight hours, which wasn't something she'd normally do. Which just went to prove how odd this situation was. The first thing she notices is that many of the trees are gone, however there are still many more than she would normally see at home, and the shattered form of the District Two Victornation is lying spreadeagled next to her. The second thing she notices is that it has finally stopped raining, and is now snowing heavily instead. Lenox grits her teeth as the first few drops of snow drop onto her. Great. So that had been why it was raining for the past day. They wanted to cool the tributes down. Before they start this at least.

"_You'll be pleased to know that we've redecorated!"_ Claudius smiles from on high, _"I know you were all really getting bored of that jungle anyway. You'll be glad to hear that there are now even more Mutts to join those ones you were playing with yesterday, including the delightful addition of the Wooly Muttmoth!"_ Claudius laughs at his own joke before continuing, in the soft tones of a worried parent, _"Banquet time by the way. Will all tributes please head for the Cornucopia to pick up their designated sponsor packs. You'll freeze to death in those skimpy furs, so we've had some nice warm clothes bought in for you, and don't forget to stop for a dash of tea or some hot choclate. You'll need a hot drink to build up your energy! Happy Hunger Games, tributes, and may the odds be forever in your favour!" _The sky flicks back to white, and Claudius's face disappears as the snow begins to fall even more heavily. Behind Lenox, Pyro jerks awake and the tall, fifteen year old spins on her feet, lifting her hands defensively as she prepares to fight off the massive teen. She growls, remembering her rope belt and pulls it off. It's not like it's there for any purpose anyway, the Capitol fitters made sure that the costume fits, exactly. The measuring had been an uncomfortable experience for every tribute to say the least. She turns her attention back to Pyro and snaps the rope forwards, brining it close to the boy, just inches from his broken nose, and cracking it like a whip with the hope of scaring him off. Pyro stares at her, his eyes quite clearly crossed, before shrugging his massive shoulders, turning and walking off. Lenox stares at him for a second. Did he just walk away from a fight? No one walks away from Lenox Carter, especially not in the Hunger Games.

"Hey!" She shouts, bounding after him as he slouches away, "Where are you going? What's the matter, huh? Afraid to face me?"

"Meh." Pyro mumbles, still slouching, his mouth hanging open slightly and making him look very, very stupid. Lenox whips at him again, this time letting the whip slap into his back before she pulls it away, leaving a small round bruise, about the size of a marble. Pyro winces but doesn't react, instead continuing to march away from her.

"Where the hell are you going?" Lenox shouts after him, and Pyro stops momentarily, turning around and rubbing his chin with the hand that holds his lighter, seemingly forgetting that he has it.

"C'rn'copia." He mumbles and Lenox hears his speaking voice clearly for the first time. When he's not shouting his head off, she realises, he slurs his words together, or maybe he just doesn't want to talk to her. Either way, it makes him sound even less intelligent than he looks, and the man doesn't exactly look intelligent with his hulking mass of muscle and buzz cut ginger hair, not to mention all the scars and the cross eyes. _It's good that he's such an idiot though_, Lenox thinks, _I can use someone unintelligent_.

"The Cornucopia's in the other direction." She smiles kindly, pointing towards the sheer gorge down which the pair had fallen the previous afternoon. The driving snow has already iced over slightly. It looks perilous in the early morning sun, and she realises with a start that they will never make it up it.

"Oh." Pyro grunts, his face sagging from its normal wide smile, "How're we s'posed to get up it?"

"We don't."

"Well screw it then," Pyro grumbles, turning and lumbering off in the other direction. Lenox grimaces, but, spinning her rope back into a roll and sticking it under her arm, she runs after him anyway. She glares up at him a couple of times, trying to ask him where the heck they are going without opening her mouth, so she can avoid swallowing snow, but he doesn't pay her any notice.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Lenox shouts again, "I just told you that that's the wrong way!"

"So." The huge figure growls through his teeth, "I ain't going to the Cornucopia."

"You're mad!"

"Not really." Pyro spins round, that old delusional grin fixed on his wide, squashed and scarred face, "Mutt's 'ere get cold too and they need to keep warm too, right? So they're gonna have fur." Lenox smiles at him as realisation dawns.

"So all we need to do is find one and kill it and we can use it to make clothes."

"Just as long as you can knit," Pyro smirks as he shuffles a way from her, "I might let you tag along. Ya never know."

Lenox stands in place for a moment, bemused, before the biting cold digs into her skin and she shivers, giving chase. She can't just stay here after all, she'll freeze to death, and this will help them both of them anyway. She'll have some dumb muscle on her side and he'll actually get a brain for once.

* * *

Zus snarls as he breaks cover and rushes for the Cornucopia, which lies less than two hundred meters away. The new terrain bothers him. It's too open, too dark, and there aren't nearly enough trees. He blinks rapidly as snow crashes into his shirtless form, . He'd seen some down in the valley when the cameras had panned across the Arena, but he hadn't seen many up on the plateau and, as far as he can tell, no one has been stupid enough yet to leap down from the high plateau into the lower level. It was about a 300 feet and it just wasn't worth leaping down to a place where no one was just so you could hide from those people. He looks around swiftly as he reaches the top of the steep incline, coming out on the all too familiar place where those two poor souls had died. The first thing he notices is the two bodies, lying suspended in place, deep under the ruby ice that covers the surface of the small lake, spreadeagled at the bottom of the dark, weapon covered pond. It's sick, brining the tributes back to the place where they had first thought. Zus looks down, noticing a bow floating near the surface almost immediately. He grins, kneeling down and punching at the ice, before pulling his hand away and swearing vulgarly. It's not just a thin covering of ice, he realizes quickly, but rather a solid block, which carries on all the way through. That's why the weapons and bodies are just hanging there so perfectly, as oppose to sinking to the bottom or rising to the top. In the very middle of it all backpacks are lain out in the center of the arena, and sets of ice skates have been lain out in the middle. Zus quickly counts the pairs, fifteen, all with numbers and either an 'F' or an 'M' on them, one of which are lying on their side, the laces undone. Zus can't hold back a grin any longer.

"They're turning this thing into a farce," he mutters as he straps on the skates, "Bloody idiots." It is quite a mild swear for Zus, and proves that he is in a good mood, glad of the fact he will soon be free of these skimpy fur clothes, and dressed in a fine fur coat. He gives a short laugh as he awkwardly pushes out from the mound at the side of the Cornucopia, keeping himself steady on all fours, sliding across the ice with all the grace and charm of a dog with three broken legs.

"_Look at him go!"_ Claudius shouts ecstatically, _"At this_ rate he should be off that thing by Day 57!"

Zus gasps as he finally rips the back from the center of the improvised rink, clinging to another bag (the one labeled Four) for support as he wrenches open the bag labeled '9M' and pulls out a pick pair of trousers and about five coats. He smiles, slipping a coat and a pair of fur lined boots on and then discarding the others coats and boots. Why did they give him so many. He had to hand it to them though, the Capitol sure don't do things by half. He smiles as he looks around the area. Icebergs. Why the hell had they put bloody icebergs in the ground. They'd replaced the trees for this? It just didn't make sense to him. Sure someone couldn't be seen from the Cornucopia, but from any other angle they were easy pickings for a guy with a bow like him. He smiles, fingering the bow that he has made himself after his last one broke. A long branch with the rope threaded through it. If they were hiding anywhere except directly behind him they could simply be picked of.

He hears shuffling from nearby and is instantly alert, staring around intently to try and spot what he heard, but he is unable to see anything. He growls, whatever it is must be directly behind an iceberg, or behind the mound. But how could they know where to hide? He grits his teeth. Either they've got a good enough memory to remember where to hide from people above the Cornucopia in radically different circumstances to the original terrain, which is completely unbelievable, or they've only just been here. Zus growls. There are only fourteen backpacks in the middle of the Cornucopia. One's missing. He growls, feverishly searching through the pile for some clue of who has already been here. Who is waiting to spring an ambush on him. He quickly counts the bags again, remembering the numbers.

1M, 2M, 2F, 3M, 3F, 4M, 6F, 7M, 7F, 8F, 9M, 10M, 11M, 11F...

No 9F.

"Come out Stone!" Zus roars, "I know you're out there." The weighty girl smiles sweetly as she straightens up behind the mound, fingering her claws in her hands and rubbing her red eyes.

"So I got caught huh?" Alylla laughs, taking a confident step towards the dark skinned boy.

"You really think you can bring me down, *****?"

"I spent yesterday killing you. Why can't I do it again?"

"You can try," Zus shrugs, and Alylla smiles thinly at him, taking another couple of steps closer to the man. She steps onto the ice and immediately slips over, drawing back from the ice and swearing as Zus laughs.

"Can't even reach me! Ha!"

"Oh please, you sound like an infant." Alylla mutters, rolling his eyes.

"Still can't get me though."

"I don't need to." Alylla smiles, "All I have to do is wait for you to come off and starve, or for some Career to show up and polish you off. I was hoping to do it myself really, but hey, I'm not petty, I can take that blow." Zus snarls at her and Alylla laughs. He knows she's right. He growls, trying to pull himself to his feet and firing an arrow at Alylla's chest. It misses wildly, whizzing into the ground as he slips on the ice and smacks his head into the smooth, but undeniably extremely hard, surface. This time it is Alylla's turn to laugh and she does so, sitting back and crossing her legs in an almost relaxed fashion. She beams at him in a sickeningly sweet fashion and leans her head back as though she is resting on a piano, a singer in one of the many restaurants or social clubs that populated Panem. Like the ones she had seen on television a million or so times.

"And you know what the sweetest part is?" She laughs, eyes no more than tiny slits as her mouth contorts into a grin of pure hatred. There is no answer and her smile widens, forcing her eyes completely shut, "No one's going to care about little old me. They're all just going to go after you. 'Cos you're the one who's been just _oozing_ self confidence since we got here, and you're the one who everyone's out to get, and you're the one who's in the middle of the Cornucopia with everyone's warm clothes. So basically, my dear, you're completely boned, and I'm perfectly safe!"

A rumble comes from behind Zus and Alylla, and the pair spin, Zus involuntarily due to slipping on the ice, to see the four figures rushing towards them. Two tall, rather muscular figures lead, their eyes ablaze and their bodies adorned with the tatters of fur sleeping bags and what looks like 'Fish' Mutt pelts, which have been turned into rudimentary coats. The two figures behind stumble and trip, both carrying bags, cases and various bits of electronics. All of them look freezing and the leader, a massive boy with jet black eyes, is glaring hungrily at the pair of claws on the large girl's fists.

"I wouldn't be so sure about that safe part." Zus drawls, before adding a precisely timed swear for emphasis sake.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT

Left: 15 tributes; 8 male, 7 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 35

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 90 + medium pack, 3 bandages & 10 arrows

Ereader64: 40 + small basket of food

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 140 + small axe

Narcissa Weasly: 105 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 80 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 75 + large axe, large knife, claws & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 90

.with.: 20

skgirl4ever: 50 + medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 50 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 40

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

Next Chapter: People die.


	27. Day 3: Return of the Cornucopia

**The Cornucopia (Or 'The Rink') of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

Demis gives a savage roar as he launches himself across the Cornucopia and into battle, skidding on the ice as he surges towards Alylla, intent on forcing 'his' claws from her hands. The girl slashes out, punching at his face with the savage barbed fists, but Demis has learnt from the last time (see Cornicopia the Musical) and skids to a halt, kicking her fist away before throwing a dagger at her, which skids past her ear, due to Demis' ridiculously poor aim. Blake is the second of the new arrivals to reach the Cornucopia, moving onto the ice with all the grace of a professional skater, and casually making his way to the middle. He spares a moment to glance down at Zus Ryaov, who is comically spread out in the middle of 'The Rink', clinging to bags for support. Blake turns his head, flashes Zus a charming grin and kicks him in the ribs. Zus gasps and Blake kicks him again, wrenching his own bag from the tall boy's grasp and ripping it open, pulling out a heavy fur coat and boots and a delicate curved sword.

"Wonderful!" Blake chirps, pulling on the coat and boots before his feet go blue and kicking Zus again, for good luck.

Up on the outside of The Cornucopia, Alylla topples back, pulling Demis to the ground with her as the two fall down the slope and into the deep snow below. For a second the pair lie there, unmoving, as though they are reminiscing past winters, when they had played and laughed like normal children without even thinking that they would one day be forced to fight to the death, and out of their own personal choice no less! Then they are moving again, each one leaping to their feet and thrashing out with their weapons. Metal claws meets stone hard short sword in the air, and both recoil from the force of the blow, stumbling back and then turning to attack again. Alylla's face contorts in the driving snow, her eyes reddening as veins bulge on her neck. Her claws slash out, ripping at Demis' DIY fur coat and throwing it about the room. Demis snarls back, stabbing out at her and cutting her arm, causing her grip to loosen on a claw. Both of them notice this slight difference almost immediately and Demis' hands shoot down to her hand, grabbing for the claw, as Alylla begins to pull her hand away. In the end, Alylla is faster, and Demis misses, plummeting into the snow as Alylla steps back. Before his opponent can make good this lapse, though, Demis has spun around, bringing his leg up to his chest and kicking out, he knocks her off balance, sending her tumbling into the snow and pulling himself to his feet. He doges as the large girl lashes out at him, throwing a savage looking bowie knife that flies under his armpit, unable to keep height, and is lost in the snow. Demis grins as he closes with Alylla, punching her in the face a couple of times to soften her up, before reaching down to pick up a claw, which had come out of her hand when she stumbled. She's sitting on her weapons now as well and finding it hard to rise, her hand fumbling around in the snow. Demis grins slyly, he knows she can't fight back now.

Needless to say he does not expect the clump of snow that flies into his face, courtesy of Miss Stone.

"_Now that's what I call using your surroundings."_

On top of the Cornucopia, Zus twitches and lashes out, unable to catch his footing and rise on the slippery surface, Blake grins widely at him as he stabs with his knife, deliberately missing on every blow, but only by a whisker. After all, killing them took one jab, keeping them spooked was something to be proud of. Besides, it got the audience on your side. The blood thirsty, vicious audience. Zus lashes out with his bow, managing to catch the boy round the face with the tip, and knocking him off his feet and onto the ice, sending him skidding away. Zus grins, letting out a victorious Battle Swear and beginning to edge away from the middle. Blake bares his teeth and unsuccessfully tries to rise.

"_As anyone who has ever gone skating will know, getting up from the ice is one of the hardest things you can do. Especially if you're carrying a sword at the time, definitely if you're weighed down by a large backpack and certainly if you are wearing thick, fur boots with no soles, and thus no grip. God, how did that kid even make it to the center of the Cornucopia?"_

Meanwhile nobody notices Jakob and Kate, as they make their way to the center of the Rink, scooping up two of Zus' discarded coats (much to his chagrin). They're much to big but, as Kate assumes, that's kind of the point. Big, after all, is all the better to keep you warm. Kate looks down as the smaller boy kneels on the ground with his heavy device. Kate smiles as she uncovers the small basket of food she's been sent, and immediately digs into a pack of dried fruit. Jakob goes for a different goal, however, reaching into a bag and removing a set of metal darts and a copper blow tube.

"Perfect." He whispers, eyes sparkling as he inspects them. "So they pulled through."

"What?" Kate asks, not quite hearing what he said. Jakob smiles at her as he fiddles with the machine, ripping off a plastic panel and exposing a set of sparking wires. He sits down on the ice and sets to work, ignoring the gradually widening wet patch on his knees, as the ice slowly melts and seeps into the fur trousers. He grins and sets to work, slipping two darts into the wires and flipping them with the darts in a similar fashion to stirring spaghetti. Kate, not receiving an answer, glares down at her and taps her foot.

"Can I borrow an arrow?" Jakob asks. Kate's mouth gapes open and he takes the arrow off her and breaks off the head, slipping the metal tube onto it and trying to connect it to the blow dart tube.

"What on earth are you doing?" Kate asks.

"Nothing."

"Tell me!" Kate hisses, eyes dark as she stares at his face. Something about him recently had seemed a little off. She knew he was planning something, but she still hadn't worked out what it was.

"No." He grins widely, and she grabs him by the jumper, turning him to face her and glaring into his eyes. He may be smarter than her, but she is still bigger and stronger than he is.

"What are you planning?" She growls, keeping her voice low and measured. She didn't trust him, not since he had told her that they were joining the Careers. Sure the Careers had a tendency to always bring along a District Three tribute to help them build machines and find food, but the thought just made her feel queasy. It is unnatural for them to hang around with trained killers, the kind who actually want to be here. Besides, they're just going to get killed now that the Careers have found all they're looking for. Maybe Jakob is hoping that they'll keep him around for intelligence, but they seem to be doing just fine with Blake, and Blake is a better fighter than both of them. She doubts that they're going to keep two smart guys around. But that doesn't matter, Kate thinks. After all she's barely said a word so far, so they're probably going to kill her first. Well then, if she's going down, then she's taking him with her.

"What are you planning?" She growls, more forcefully this time.

"I call it," Jakob smiles, stroking the larger machine in his hands as he fiddles with the two darts, "Capitol Fever!" Kate groans. She doesn't like the sound of that.

Blake sneers as he finally climbs to his feet, ignoring both Jakob and Kate completely as they scrabble to the sidelines. Let them run. It's quite pathetic really, he thinks, Demis will probably let Irre and Verain kill them now he's got his claw. That's if the man isn't dead by than. Blake smiles at the fault. Now is the perfect opportunity, stab the blundering idiot from behind and then cut the throat of the big girl he is fighting. Two less challenges to deal with. Blake grins and flicks his wavy hair, before frowning when he remembers what he had been doing on the ground in the first place. The savage sneer returns as he turns his attention to the lean boy who knocked him down in the first place. The boy is beginning to gather his wits and get his balance on the ice. He is almost at the edge and Blake snarls as he comes to a sudden realisation. If he doesn't kill Zus now, then he will escape. The man has a habit of hiding and that could be bad for Blake, who works on outsmarting his opponents, not finding them. Blake grins calmly, leaping forwards and kicking the larger figure straight in the pants. A bad move, Blake realises, as the lanky, dark skinned tribute trips off the edge, tumbling down the slope on the other side and pulling himself to his feet. Zus glares up at the slope, and the furious Career above him. Zus is much larger than Blake, and it seems that the younger tribute knows not to come down to his level, because Zus has had enough of the kicking. He's sick of it and he's not going to stand for it. He's going to kick his head in... Later.

Zus turns and marches away, eyes dark as he pulls the thermos flask that he has, somehow, managed to to keep deep in his pocket all this time. He takes a sip. Whiskey. That didn't help. Someone obviously didn't understand how hypothermia worked. Well, he isn't going to hang around here too long, he thinks, running away as Blake watches on, thoroughly bemused. Well, let him think what he likes, Zus smolders as he flees away from the Cornucopia. He can kill the bastard later, but first he's got to find somewhere warm and hidden, and find something warm to drink. God he's tired. And the day has only just begun.

Down below the smaller tributes, Demis dodges another snowball, dropping to all fours and launching himself towards the half-snowed over claw, even as Alylla reaches for another snowball. He grits his teeth as a second hits him in the face, temporarily blinding him, before he is smashed into by about a dozen more, pushed back by a hail of snow.

'Snowballs!' Demis growls as he dives into Alylla, shoving her back against the snow, and scoops a claw from off the ground. 'Seriously? Goddamn snowballs? The hell is wrong with this chick?' He gives a roar, stabbing down at the large tribute, and is immediately blocked and hurled to one side by the second claw, which Alylla still holds in her hand. She grimaces and spins to her feet, her face red and battered by the snow. She charges forwards, carving directly down with her claw as she runs. Demis grins, perfect. His own claw flashes out, slashing Alylla's heel and causing her to trip, almost smashing into his face. He rolls on to his stomach, grabbing the second metal claw (which is still wrapped around Alylla's fist at a very odd angle. Alylla cries out as Demis tugs at the claw, forcing it down her hand as he goes. Alylla gasps in pain and tugs back, trying to stumble to her feet as she wrenches it back. Demis growls, slipping the spare claw into its sheath and gritting his teeth. There is a sickening cracking noise and Alylla's face pales as her hand changes shape slightly. Even Demis looks slightly sick as he kicks the girl backwards into the snow, her eyes fluttering shut as she falls into unconsciousness.

"_Watch out!" _Claudius laughs, _"She might make a splash!"_

Demis steps towards her, reattaching his claws to his hands and blinking away the twinge of compassion he feels for her as he stretches out his fists, ready to pound the life out of her. As bloodily as possible. The Capitol citizens seem to like bloody anyway. Demis grunts. It's disgusting. Suddenly, an explosion sounds behind him, followed by a shriek and then a deathly silence. Demis spins on his heels as soon as he hears the noise, staring up at Jakob Hart who lies, spreadeagled on the ground, blackened with soot like some sort of cartoon character. The small District Three tribute twitches, before sitting up and staring cross eyed at Demis.

"Demis, you have been tricked!" Kate bellows. "This," She points at the machine in Jakob's hands, "Is not a tracker!"

Blake smiles widely. Obviously the little girl had decided to rat, to preserve her own skin. Jakob wouldn't really be able to refuse his offer now! Demis, mouth droops open and he steps towards Jakob, putting one foot on the mound as he does so. He raises his fists, the dark golden claws glinting viscously in the early morning... sky. Jakob licks his lips nervously.

"_Looks like he's in trouble."_ Claudius croons.

"Is this true." Demis growls, his brow furrowing as he takes another step towards Jakob.

"Yes." Jakob smiles, and Blake, unable to see his face, chuckles slightly. If he could see the other tributes face, he would have known, would have been prepared, maybe he could even have guessed Jakob's plan. But he couldn't see his face, nor had he been listening to Kate enough to hear the tremble in her voice, as though she is unsure of herself. As far as Blake is concerned, he has just won. He steps onto the ice, preparing to slit the girls throat, to lay his hand on the boy's shoulder and butcher Demis, already imagining what he is going to say when the other Careers arrive and find Demis dead. "It's a speaker. The X-29 speaker system." He smiles, pressing his thumb down onto his tape recorder and pressing play, before slipping the blow tube on the end of the recorder onto one of the darts sticking out of the large device, completing the circuit. It is at this point that Blake realises exactly what is going on, he leaps at Jakob, feeling genuine over the top rage for possibly the first time in his life. He trips on one of Zus' discarded coats as he rushes towards Jakob, his legs wrapping in it and flying back behind him, depositing him face first into the ice. The tape begins to play.

'"How'd you like a truce?"' Blake's voice mutters from the tape, barely loud enough for Demis to hear it. '"We could get rid of Demis right here and now if we put our minds to it, and I doubt you'd need Kate if I were around, but you never know I might let you keep her. If you need her that bad. After all I've been there. The rest of the tributes would be easy pickings and, right at the end. well, we could have a proper one on one to decide who lives."

"Tempting"' Jakob's voice replies, followed by static, '"Why me?"

"You're clever and you're a kid. I have a heart you know I don't want to have to kill a kid."

"So where's Jules?"' Demis flinches as he hears the name, and stares up at the sky as the dead tributes of yesterday are announced. Teagan, Phillip, Hype and Jules. The kid, the know it all, the idiot and the traitor. To think he had tried to protect her!

'"I let her run. Told that idiot of a Career infront of us that she went crazy. Heh. Retard believed every word. Really I never expected anything of her. Just a kid. She's probably dead by now. So, what do you say, partner?"

"No"...' The tape whirs to a stop and the X-29 crackles, before exploding in Jakob's hands. This time the explosion is much larger, wrenching the machine into several pieces that fire around the cornucopia and sending him tumbling backwards in a shower of blood and sparks. Demis looks back to the ground and straight at Blake.

"_Looks like he's the one in trouble now."_ Claudius laughs as he stares at Blake's shocked and enraged face.

Demis snarls at Blake. To think he had tried to protect him! To think he had even listened to his ideas, had followed his advice! He growls as he charges up the slope towards Blake, who is still struggling with the coat that bonds his legs and Kate, who has an arm wrapped around Jakob, who is suffering from post explosion injuries, and his helping him into the distance. The two have almost disappeared into the snow as Blake stops wrestling with the coat and instead begins to scuffle around on the ground, reaching for his sword. He jerks and twitches closer as Demis bares down on him. His fingers brush the hilt and he grits his teeth in frustration. Demis roars as Blake wraps his hand around is sword and pulls it up infront of him. Demis grits his teeth, bringing up both claws as he prepares to strike. And then he goes stiff. Blood pours out of a gaping wound in his chest as Alylla stumbles backwards, eyes dark and ringed as she clutches her broken hand. Demis lets out a ragged breath and stumbles backwards, black eyes staring around at Alylla. He spins on his feet, grabbing the large axe which the girl had somehow managed to heft towards him and into his back. Demis gasps, flinging the axe away from him. He spins on his feet, unable to keep standing up. Demis gulps back blood, falling to his knees and looking up at Alylla, surprised but not particularly scared. He hiccoughs out another breath and stares up at the other girl. She glares down at him, spitting on the floor as she grips her hand, involuntary tears rolling down her cheeks as pain shoots through her broken hand. Demis smiles as she lashes out at him, knocking him to the ground, not even noticing as Blake cuts the coat of his legs and slinks away. Demis looks up at Alylla, his dark eyes even more piercing as the blood pours from his wound and his body pales.

"There. Now we're even." Alylla growls.

"Your eighteen right?" Demis asks, rolling over onto his back and staring up at the artificially blue sky with equally artificial eyes, "Heh. Sounds better than getting killed by some stupid kid! Bit early but, really, what the hell was I expecting picking a fight with you?" Demis laughs, almost casually at the sky, clutching his bubbling wound with a claw covered hand. "Funny thing is, I can already hear those goddamn crafts coming to pick me up..." He trails off, turning his head over to look at Alylla, "I'm keeping the claws, girl, you aren't getting these back." He smiles, tightening his hands and giving a final breath as his eyes grow even darker. Alylla groans, trying unsuccessfully to prise the claws from his dead hands, until her fingers go numb and her expression freezes in place. Then she gives up, shivering as she marches away to find somewhere warmer. If another tribute could sneak up on her while she's trying to steal back her claws well then, she's just as dead as Career boy.

* * *

"So, why aren't we going down to the Cornucopia again, for that coffee and coats?"

"'Cos we'd just get killed down there. Besides it's not cold."

"Excuse me? It's freezing."

"No it's not. It's 5 degrees Celsius. It's kind of cold, but not too much. Not enough to snow."

"We're not all geniuses. What's that in Fahrenheit?"

"41 degrees. A full nine degrees over freezing point. That means we can't possibly get snow."

"So. It's still cold."

"But it shouldn't be snowing. There's something wrong here."

"Still cold though."

"Yeah."

"God Phil." Emery smiles, stretching her legs out in front of her and huddling herself inside the nice long coat that a sponsor had sent her just minutes before, "You can be a real idiot some times!" She smiles across at the boy on the other side of the room, tears rolling down her cheeks despite the generally pleasant mood of the conversation. She has no idea why though.

"Hey, which one of us had to save the other one from getting killed by a kid yesterday? And you're supposed to be our fighter? God, no wonder I'm like this." The boy responds, keeping perfectly still as he did so. Well, no, he doesn't, Emery just hears him doing so. The boy does in fact just slump slightly, and his mouth doesn't open. Emery groans and props him upright again, making sure not to break away the hard scab that covers his neck or any of the bandage over it. She tries not to look into his eyes either, simply keeping her eyes on the floor. For some reason Phillip doesn't want her to look at him recently. She doesn't really get it. It's a doctor thing she supposes.

"Aren't you supposed to be a doctor's son? You should be able to tell that 41 degrees is cold, whether or not you can feel it."

"I get confused." She hears the voice respond, as she stares into the comforting darkness that surrounds the other tribute.

"No, you're just being stupid."

"Say, next time you come back from the dead Emery, be sure to let me know if you keep all your higher brain functions." The girl laughs. Or at least, she means to laugh. It comes across more as a gulp and a hiccough as, for some reason, her face doesn't seem fit to twist its way into a smile.

"You're crying." She hears Phillip mutter, accompanied by an odd shuffling noise, like he's edging his way closer. "Why?" Emery tries to shrug off the tears, but they continue to flow, shoving their way out of her eyes and hurling themselves at the hard ground below. She screws up her face and tries to concentrate. Why is she crying. Because of the stress of being a tribute? Because she had seen a young girl loose her life yesterday? Because Phillip is dead?

Okay, well maybe it does make sense for her to cry, she thinks, she has a lot to cry about after all.

"Yes." Phillip's voice mutters, "But I'm still here." Emery jumps in surprise. Had he just read her thoughts. Well, she supposes, it does kind of make sense. He's dead after all and she has absolutely no idea what dead people are capable of. "It's getting hotter in here."

"What? It's getting hotter?"

"_Looks like we've been rumbled!"_ Claudius grins.

"Hotter. It's six degrees Celsius now. It was five a couple of minutes ago."

"So?"

"So snow doesn't make things hotter!" Phillip growls angrily. "So that means it must be this cave that's getting hotter, and it sure of hell looks hotter down there." His head droops sideways as though he is pointing deeper into the cave. Emery follows this and notices what he means almost immediately. The rocks are glowing. She smiles and steps forwards, stroking one of the rocks with her fingers. Her fingers tingle as they are hit with a warm current of air, kind of like when you stand to close to the radiator. She tries to smile, but it ends up being ridiculously forced, and takes another step towards the rocks, greeted by more warmth.

"Now isn't that something." Phillip's voice says from behind her, "I doubt you'll be needing a coat where we're going Em'." Emery smiles and nods and, after taking a minute to make sure the boy isn't looking, slips the long coat off and replaces it with the battered leather shirt and shorts she had been given for the first couple of days. She sniffs as she looks back down the cave to see Phillip lying there.

"Aren't you coming?" She asks him.

"I'm dead you idiot." A voice drifts back from further down the corridor and Emery blushes as she realises that the boy has already past her, "I've can't exactly take my body with me. Now grab something to eat and let's go." Emery kneels down and scoops up something off the floor, awkwardly swinging it over her shoulders and stumbling after him.

"You're eating that?" She hears, and Emery could easily imagine Phillip raising an eyebrow as he questions her judgment. It is just the sort of thing the boy would do.

"Yep."

"You're crazy. It's not fresh. Besides, I was hoping we could keep it!"

"Hey! I am not crazy! You're the one who couldn't keep themselves alive! Therefore I get veto of what I take for food."

"_Yeah. Talking to the dead."_ Claudius chirps, _"That's one of those totally not crazy things I do all the time. Heck, only yesterday I took my great grandfather out for a lovely country bike ride! Would have been fun to if his ear hadn't fallen off." _He looks down at the screen again, to see Emery drag Phillip's body down the cave complex, casually chatting to it as she goes. _"And to think we were going to take that away from her in the night!"_

* * *

A/N: Phillip is not a ghost. Emery is hallucinating.

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

Left: 14 tributes; 7 male, 7 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 45 sword + lamp (IN RESERVE)

A type of Wallflower: 35 +small pack

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 50 + medium pack, 3 bandages, blow tube, 8 darts & 9 arrows

Ereader64: 15 + small basket of food & small knife

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105 + small knife

Ginny Weasley23: 90 + small axe & large food basket

Narcissa Weasly: 125 + large pack & slingshot

HelloPoppet123: 80 + longbow

MySoulToReap: 95 + large axe, large knife & large pack

Beware of the Nargles: 100

snowleopardwithabowtie: 20

skgirl4ever: 70 + medium pack (Scratch) +small knife (Verain)

wildone97: 60 +Large pack & Capitol Medicine (deep cuts)

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 50

kuhse: 90

JayceeSue44227: 10

Joyce C. Kali: 10 (Welcome to the Games!)

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

Next week: No update - I'm walking round York for DofE :(

Week after: Bloody Aftermath


	28. Dead Tributes Society 2

A/N: You know I said I wouldn't be updating this week because I'd be off on a walk. Yeah well, I lied. About not updating. The next time you hear from me I will have no legs, as they will have been burnt off from excessive walking and I will be blind, due to being out in the sun for more than five minutes (seriously that's not natural for a basement dweller like me). Not that you'll care. You won't even know because you can't see me. Suffice to say the next chapter will be illegible. Enjoy this one while it lasts!

**The Revengeful Return of...**

**The Dead Tributes Society**

**WITH A VENGEANCE**

"_Day Two has slowed the pace a bit from the first, with only four deaths in this day. As the tributes became more and more used to their surroundings and were able to better adapt to them. Despite this we've still lost about as many as yesterday, including the young Career Jules, the surprisingly chipper Hype Tarick and statistical favorite to win, Demis! Well, just goes to show you that Games Makers scores aren't everything, and it's all luck who wins. Damn Games Makers, what are we paying them for?"_

* * *

HYPE TARICK (Age 16):

"Well that's it Royce," the coal miner shrugs as he pushes his way into the dusty bar, trying to avoid the eyes of the numerous Peacekeepers who have also popped in for a nice drink and... some other stuff, before they have to be back on duty.

"What's it Sherm?" The first man's larger counterpart grins stupidly, winking over at a passing barmaid as he takes his seat.

"End of the bloody line ain't it Royce." Sherm groans, burying his face in a beer and downing the entire pint. This is a man who can handle his drink. "Damn Tarick boy's out. All hopes out the window. We ain't winnin' this year."

"Well duh, Sherm. Like he was ever going to win. I mean, 'like', what were you expecting, 'dude'!" Royce grins, bursting into laughter as he imitates the tributes voice.

"Yeah, that's all the 'fighting the power' he's ever gonna be doing!" The two men laugh as they down another couple of drinks. Over in the corner, a thin, bespectacled man raises his shoulders in an irritated fashion and tries to tone them out, a permanent frown etched on his wrinkled face.

"Yeah, yeah!" The other man guffaws, "He ain't gonna be doin' much more Mutt fighting neither, man!" The thin man grumbles into his tea, a surprisingly non-alcoholic drink for the area, and considers turning around. Why had his wife dragged him here? It wasn't like there was really anything he needed to oversee here, she had just wanted a drink with that Head-Peacekeeper's wife she seemed so friendly with. He didn't like it himself. It just didn't seem womanly that the wife should be the promiscuous party animal. But, then again, he assumed it was the time of equality. He should probably just settle down, he tells himself as he turns his attention back to those chatting idiots.

"Hey man, he took on Zard!" The other man stops as his partner looks at him, before grinning widely.

"Yeah, an' lost!" The two men laugh, and the thin old man grits his teeth, finally spinning around on his barstool and stepping to his feet.

"Sirs." He begins and the two men spin round in their bar stools, their jocular fashion instantly dissolving into near identical 'Oh Crap' faces. Brock Tarick, otherwise known as 'That Rich Jerk Who Owns This Bar', is one of the most upstanding of the underhand citizens of District Twelve's Hob and, on top of being a rigorous no nonsense man, is also the father of Hype Tarick. Brock takes a thin sideways look at the pair, before beginning, his voice curt and abrupt, almost as though someone has sand papered his voice. Dressed in a fine (for District Twelve) suit and a thick pair of horn rimmed glasses, he is in every way the opposite of his son.

"Let me ask you something, gentlemen, if indeed that is what you are, have either of you been in the Hunger Games?" The two shake their heads, and Brock smiles, "Have you ever been trained as Careers?" He looks down at them and the two fidget uncomfortably. "No? Well then have you even killed anyone? Accidentally? Someone you love?" He looks down at the squirming men, watching their pained faces as they try desperately to move away from the diminuative, but somehow still very scary, man. They shake their heads. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly.

"Well then. I suggest that you should button your lip and stop mocking my son." Brock hisses contemptuously through his teeth, "After all, it's not like either of 'you' have ever won a Hunger Games?"

"Well, to be fair, mate, neither has your son." One of the men ventures, eyes set on the ground as he.

"'Cos he's dead, right?" The other one mutters and the two nod rigorously. Brock turns to them, flashing them a cold smile and giving a humorless chuckle.

"Yes, gentlemen, he is. Quite dead." The man's smile widens and the two men shiver, looking at one another, "As is Murp, my associates daughter. Good observation." He turns and struts out. "And you are both hereby expelled from this bar." The man turns and frowns deeply as a bunch of rather overly muscled men gather around the two men, growling menacingly as they prepare to beat the pair to a pulp. Brock's face twitches. No one insults his son. Well, no one except for him. And he was going to continue to do it, regardless of whether or not the boy was alive. After all the boy was a Career, a weapon. And he'd failed as well. It was just disgusting. He had raised the boy for years. He had poured his blood, sweat and tears into training that boy and what respect did he get? A loser. An idiot who couldn't finish a sentence without a 'man' or a 'fight the power'. Why should he mourn? But then again he couldn't just let those uncultured idiots insult his hard work, could he? In his own bar no less! It had been the same for his associate, Winston, when his daughter, Murp, had died. You had to shout them down or else they got cocky. It isn't care, Brock assures himself as he marches down the street. It's just good business sense. Or at least, that's what Brock had told himself.

It was harder now that the boy was actually dead. It couldn't be. Could it? Brock grimaces widely and blinks several times, trying to clear his head.

"Guess I really do care about you... man." Brock groans, dropping his eyes. He turns, spinning on his heel and rushing back to the bar. His son had been right. Violence isn't the way to solve problems. How long had he known that for, deep down? He had to stop that fight.

* * *

PHILLIP SUTTON (Age 15):

"The ratings have skyrocketed! Doubled! No tripled! How could we have ever tried to take him away from her?" The Games Maker, Pizzo, roars as he spins in his swivel chair, beaming at his fellows with a kind of sickeningly sweet greed. Pizzo strokes his face with a long pink nail that clashes perfectly with the green dye that has been applied to each thick hair on the back of his hand. Sol, the District One escort, grimaces. The man has no taste. Where is the style, the cape, the spikes, the dyed red hair? It just makes no sense. He tears his eyes away from the man's display of poor taste and finally turns his eyes to what the other man is saying. "Well, Why did we try to take him back to his District? We get far more viewers from old crazy girl now. Why would we ever try to do differently?"

"Human decency?" The District One mentor, Sol, croaks, receiving some very odd looks from the other Games Makers for his troubles. Pizzo's grin widens and he pushes off the wall, propelling his swivel chair right up to Sol's face and staring at him, his eyes bright and sparkling.

"What's that?" He smiles sweetly, pointing to the wall of screens behind him with his thumb, and flashing Sol with his florescent green teeth. On the screen the Games Makers can see a small, red headed girl sloshing through heavy water, which fills the lower caves of the Arena. Her face is lit only by the cold glow of the orange stones that cover the wall, she giggles as she kicks up the warm water on the floor, inclining her head towards the corpse on her shoulders and chattering frantically to it.

"It's warm!" She giggles cheerily, her voice coming through the speakers as though she were actually in the room. Several of the Games Makers grin to themselves and raise their glasses to Beetee, who designed the technology that made the speakers. "Yes, well I know you said that, but I wasn't expecting it to be..." She stops, as if interrupted by someone and the Games Makers burst out laughing. Sol laughs along. The girl is very cute after all. He can see why she gets so many fans now, especially from the younger children of Panem. And keeping the boy around does boost ratings, he admits. It keeps the star-struck lovers aspect behind the whole thing. Sol smiles. Just like the 74th Hunger Games, but with all the tragedy that they had longed after. Sol had been a Games Maker even back then, thirty five years ago. One of those young, out going one's like Pizzo, constantly thinking of the ratings and the people of Panem and the comfort and enjoyment of the tributes. Idealistic he called it, believing that, just because the tributes had been forced to fight in these games, that meant that they deserved lots of respect and attention. They don't. That's why he wants to send the dead boy home. Sure the girl is cute, but he finds the idea slightly creepy as well. He just wanted to drag the tributes in, kill them off and send them home. After all, he'd seen too many tributes for one to be at all special. It was just their job to come in and die.

He had been just like Pizzo, thirty five years ago. Before the Second Rebellion. He had been idealistic. He had believed, when he was young, that everyone should be treated specially. That the victor should be determined by value of ratings. He had been one of the Games Makers who had voted on what to do with Katniss and Peeta. He had voted for one of them to die, Peeta he had hoped. The boy had spent a weak hidden away from the cameras, the girl was a fighter who had been responsible for the deaths of five of the Careers that year. It had been obvious who the audience wanted to win. He had met Peeta at the celebration the next year. Had said only a couple of sentences to him. He'd slipped into a conversation about modern art versus the old stuff. He remembered having made some inept comment and being laughed out. But Peeta hadn't laughed. He'd felt foolish then. Not sorry. No, he'd done what he had to, but he felt like such a fool for wishing that Peeta had died for the ratings. He might have even given up his job over the idea. He had made himself look like an idiot.

And then Peeta had gone mad and attacked the Capitol. The tables had been turned and Sol had spent the next fifteen years of his life suffering for it. Used for menial tasks, manual labor and a Capitpl whipping boy for daring to be born into the wrong society.

He looks back at the screen. Emery reminds him so much of Katniss. Phillip reminds him of Peeta. If he were a superstitious man, Sol could well imagine that the pair had reincarnated and come back to seek vengeance. He looks at the screen again and then back at Pizzo, who is still raving on and on about 'Ratings' and 'Viewership'.

And it's a shame. It's a real real shame. He might even cry if his tear ducts hadn't been removed to install that second pair of pink corrective eyelids. Because, the truth is, he likes Emery. Really, she seems like a nice girl. He had thought that, maybe just this once, he could root for a tribute again.

But she is too similar to Katniss. Too unpredictable, too symbolic. And he knows what her fans will do if she wins.

"She has to die." He growls, and the other Games Makers are instantly silent, staring at him like he's a madman.

"What?" Connor Flipseye mouths as Pizzo stares exasperatedly at the wrinkled, hook nosed old man.

"She has to die." Sol repeats and, in the corner, he can see a slow smile cross Mr Denair's face.

"And soon." Denair chuckles, acting like this is all one big joke. "We can't have another Mockingjay."

* * *

JULES RADCLIFFE (Age 13):

Jules had been returned to District Four the day before and, like all District Four tributes, was treated like a hero despite her young age. For the entire day people had been surrounding the grave, commenting on her bravery, audacity and on how much of a pity it was that she hadn't survived longer. The mayor had visited the grave, District officials had piled gifts into her open grave and the local reverend had made a few speeches. Even the Head Peacekeeper had been expected to visit.

But so far, Perth hadn't been allowed to see her. He couldn't see her until tomorrow. It isn't right for the tributes friends and family to see her on the first day as it might cause them distress. It is the job of the dignitaries to work out what to do.

Perth couldn't really see how he could be called squeamish. He had killed his first fish at five. He had trained as a Career since the age of eight. At nine he had been presented with his first longsword and expected to kill a Juvenile Mutt that had been shipped in specially for training and had ripped off a sizable amount of his cheek. And finally, at the age of twelve he has watched a girl a year older than him, who he has trained with for most of his life be dragged to the floor and have a poisonous leaf shoved into her throat by a boy a few years older than her. Seriously, what the hell? Did they really expect him to be any more cowardly than those stupid dignitaries, who had never had to worry about a single thing in their entire lives.

He rolls his eyes as he stalks up and down the pier that lies just outside the home of Old Mrs Annie Odair. She wasn't home now of course, off at the Reapings with the rest of the Victors, but the younger Careers of the District always came here when they were troubled. Her husband was normally off on 'Business Trips' in the Capitol at this time of day and, even though he was getting older now, and so the Capitol had cut him some slack, he was still rarely at home. That didn't really matter to the kids though, Annie was always the one who they came down to see. Annie did, after all give some very good advice when her mind was working properly and, when it wasn't, you could just sit outside and eat salmon from the nets all day and no one would come and stop you in case Annie heard them shouting and snapped. Perth looks smiles at the thought and turns his eyes back to the ground, where a line of Careers, about twenty of them in fact, between the ages of nine and thirteen are watching him intently. Perth snarls at them and turns away, slouching down the pier again and kicking a can into the sea.

"Why did she go?" He growls, "Why did she have to be such a cocky idiot?" The other Careers shrug, but Perth doesn't care, he knows why she went anyway. It was because Jules was selfish. She always had been.

District Four Careers fought each other for the spot as that years Career every year. They always had done. District One and Two were more organised. They had schools for Careers and ways of choosing them and it meant that they won more often, but that the training was more like work, less like fun. Fun was very important in District Four. It always had been. It was tradition. Sure their Careers didn't have to memorise creeds and oaths like District One, or fight in tournaments to decide the Career a year in advance like District Two, but that didn't make them any less of Careers.

But it had for Jules.

It was her own fault for getting cocky. For being an idiot and actually trying to get through when they all surged the stage. When you were a kid like they were you weren't supposed to get onto the stage, it was your job to stop the weaker Careers, the one's who didn't stand a chance, from reaching the stage. It was good fun and, as long as you didn't get big headed or cheat it, it made sure that only the best of the older tributes got through. Perth grimaces and turns on the spot, looking down at a little nine year old girl, by the name of Salt. He smiles, glad that she won't be in the Games for at least five years, and then turns back to his friends.

"We're going to see Jules." He mutters.

"But..." A large eight year old boy begins, "Tradition..." Perth passes him without a word, and the other tributes shrug, heading after the short, but somehow strangely commanding twelve year old.

"She volunteered when she wasn't ready." Perth growls as he marches away, "She was only a year older than me and she thought she could take on crazies like that Pyro guy and District One's lunatic."

"She died Perth." Salt whispers to him, and Perth turns to her, eyes dark and ringed.

"Yeah I know. I spent the whole damn night awake, just thinking about and I still only just got it. Yeah she's dead, but she broke the rules didn't she? As far as I'm concerned, she doesn't deserve no respect!" Salt nods and falls in behind him. Capitol parents expected their children to be weak and submissive, to need protection. Salt was a lot like Jules, she could follow orders alright, but that wasn't to say she needed protection. She was tough, all Career kids were. You needed to be tough if you wanted to survive. District Four wasn't exactly the strongest District. After all, all they did all day was fish.

As for that Blake kid. He was smart. Perth's face twists into a grimace as he walks. He didn't want that guy to win. He'd cheated to get in. Weaseled his way into the center of the Career alliance and got out just before it all hit the fan. He didn't even know the meaning of tradition and respect. This year was a disgrace to District Four.

"Hope the other guy dies soon." He mutters as he stalks towards the graveyard.

* * *

TEAGAN COOPER (12):

"So we're out now?" Heartford spits over the table at the Peacemaker who, along with all five of the Mayor's children and the many servants who line the walls of the dinning room, flinches, expecting another example of the Mayor's rather explosive temper. The Mayor, however, is silent, steepleing his fingers as a small smile crosses his lips.

"Well isn't that funny?" He chuckles, leaning back in his chair, much to the bemusement of his children, who exchange worried looks and mouth to each other. The Peacekeeper easily reads their lips and smiles when he realises what they are saying. They think their father must have gone mad from stress. They stare at him, shaking their heads and fiddling with their oddly dyed hair as he breathes deeply, as if preparing to say something. Instead he just snorts through his nose, as if laughing at some private joke.

"Sir..." The Peacemaker begins, but the man raises his hand, shushing him before he can say anything more.

"So we lost..." He mutters, eyes dark as he looks up at the man, "But I won."

The Peacekeeper blinks, his mouth drooping open as he hears the man's words. "Are you serious, sir?" He gulps, his mouth dry, wishing desperately that he had been given his placement in one of those Districts where the Mayor was scared of the Peacekeepers, and not the other way around.

"Of course." Heartford drawls, "I'm always sure of everything I do. Now, don't you have whippings to carry out?" The Peacekeeper gawks at him some more, before nodding hastily and saluting, marching out with baton in hand, glad to get back to his grueling, under payed job. Heartford's son, William, stares at his father, his artificially sparkling yellow eyes full of questions.

"_The first question being 'We're not in the Capitol, dad, why the hell did you give me yellow eyes'?"_

"Dad?" William begins, and his father turns to him, flashing a sickeningly creepy smile as he stares back at his child, twirling one of the purple ringlets that come from his head.

"Yes, William?"

"Quentin's dead you know." Heartford winces, as though remembering the news of his son's death is actually physically painful for him. He quickly recovers however and his smile returns, albeit a forced one, with the corners drooping slightly. He pulls himself to his feet, wrapping his arm around William and smiling.

"The girl survived longer, yes. But she was eaten, Quentin went down a fighter. Besides," he smiles wearily, calling his children to him and indicating out of the window, to where the remains of Teagan Cooper are being almost literally poured into her grave as friends and loved ones surround her, tears in their eyes. The children look hesitantly at each other as a dog howls in the distance. They had never seen the girl until about a week or two before, but it was obvious that she was going to be sorely missed. "She was only twelve and she survived longer than eight other contestants. That's no mean feat. It shows that we District Five's are tough and, no matter how weak we look, we always win, and, believe me, that's a thing that those idiots in the other District's will want to keep in mind before they volunteer. That is, if they have any intention of surviving next year..."

* * *

DEMIS GREATTOOTH (Age 18):

"_District Two have their own little tricks and customs for dealing with those tributes who die every year. Generally the tribute will lie in state for the remainder of the year, with a plaque discerning the nature of their death. Guess what Demis' reads. You got it 'Killed by a girl'!"_ Claudius grins, editing a passage from 'District Two' a visitors guide, in order to use in his speech.

In actual fact Demis' plaque reads 'Killed second day: stabbed'. He lies there in his glass coffin, with figures crowded around, crying bitterly and cursing District Nine for his death. It is ironic, therefore, that none of them had ever heard of him before he volunteered. From the sidelines Jugo Greattooth, the younger brother of Demis, stares on at the crowds, making sure not to get too close as the crowds shove and bustle around the grave, yammering about 'hero' this and 'The Wolf' that. Demis the Wolf they are calling him. One of the greatest losers District Two has ever had. A demon. A beast. A hunter. Jugo shrugs. They do this every year. It's really rather sad but the truth is that, by the time the next Hunger Games comes along, no one in the world is going to remember that Demis ever existed. Well okay, his family isn't likely to forget him and some of those Capitol die hard fans will remember the Great Wolf but, at the end of the day, no one really cares that much for the losers. For the first few months they are visited daily, and Capitol citizens will sometimes even make pilgrimages to the sight to see the dead, but after that they just sort of fall out of the common mind, forced to languish in obscurity for the rest of the year until, long after every man, woman and child in the Capitol has forgotten their name, they are torn down from their podium and quietly buried, and a new glass case is placed in their spot, ready for the next year's tribute or two. It almost makes Jugo sick how they deal with him. Demis should garner so much more respect than this. All this fake pity and false respect. All these feigned tears and meaningless words and exclamations of grief. Demis was, is and always had been Jugo's idol, a literal god both in and out of the arena. A dark storm who could easily crush all who stand against him but, at the same time, a pillar of society. Career, Peacekeeper in training, a studier of every single form of crime and punishment. A living machine. That was what Demis had been. Jugo had always looked up to him in everything and the other boy, while always swift to dispense a cuff round the ear or a boot to the head if he thought that Jugo was being an idiot, or not pulling his weight, or even just being a bit of a wimp, had treated his younger brother with a sort of respect which Jugo was only just realising, and had always taken for granted before the man's death. Demis had been a natural leader where Jugo had not, always in the one who took charge. Always directing Jugo's actions and anger in the way he thought was most beneficial to either his training or the District. He had been a skilled claw fighter, using them like liquid fire, seemingly useless and very close range, he had had a way of using them that made the difficult weapons look effortless. The girl from Nine had had no idea how to use them, swinging and punching with the delicate weapons as if they were just a pair of fancy knuckle dusters, not a weapon of war. It was a shame he never got to throw them, Jugo thinks, that was his party trick after all, and no one was more accurate with this clumsy technique than Demis. No one had ever been quite like Demis in combat, and no one ever would be.

That's what Jugo thought anyway, maybe he was wrong. Perhaps he was just seeing the whole situation through rose tinted contact lenses and he had no right to be. His face twitches as he realises that even he has been gripped by this disgusting false sentimentality that those other District Two asses feel. He too has been pushed to the ground and forced to play society's little game. He was unable to remember the bad points about Demis, his foibles and annoyances. The stuff that made him real. He gives a dissatisfied groan. If that were true he never would have stood a chance in the Games. Out in the Bloodbath because of how damn sentimental he was.

Jugo grimaces again, looking more and more like Demis, with his dyed black eyes, dark, creased face and permanent steely glare. The thirteen year old bares his teeth, pushing into the crowd and quite literally bowling some adults over as he makes his way for the middle of the group. He had never been a Career, he wasn't skilled enough by a long shot, but he is still in pretty good shape and big for his age as well. Big enough, at least, that he is in fact taller than some of the men and women who stand between him and his brother's body.

Demis is lying their, his face set in a tight smile, his eyes gently closed, as though he is sleeping peacefully. His hands grip a pair of metal claws, which the doctors could have easily removed by slicing through his fingers or stimulating his brain into loosening his fingers, but didn't want to cause any more scaring than just the holes in his back. Jugo spits contemptuously at the thought of the Capitol's so called 'Heroic positioning' of Demis, with one hand on his hip and another raised as though saluting, dressed in the many furs and the crown that he had worn at his Interviews. Jugo's grimace increases, and his face becomes almost unrecognizable as he feels a strange heat grow up behind his eyelids. Gradually, against his will, tears begin to force their way out of his eyes. His vision blurred he looks down at the plaque, wishing for some kind of solace. It reads 'stabbed' he knows it does, but when he looks down all he can imagine it saying is 'attacked from behind'. Killed by a cheat. Murdered.

Jugo blinks rapidly, and when he finally opens his eyes again the tears are gone, the grimace has vanished.

Jugo's shoulders shake as he turns and stalks out of the crowd. This time they part to let him through. Part because of his considerable size, despite his young age. Part because they recognize him. Part because they now know who he is. Part because they can see the anger and the grief and the hatred behind his eyes, because they know what's coming next, what is going to happen. They can see it in the young teenagers eyes.

He is the next Demis.

He is the next Great Wolf.

Trainee-Peacekeeper.

New-Career.

Next-Victor.

A god.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

Left: 14 tributes; 7 male, 7 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 55

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 60

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 100

Narcissa Weasly: 135

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 105

Beware of the Nargles: 100

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 80

wildone97: 70

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 60

kuhse: 50

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 20

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

The New System of listing items (This is how it will be done from now on):

Irre Massenhaft: Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Verain Longcast: Small knife

Jakob Hart: Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots

Kate Ryal: Small knife, bow, 9 arrows

Blake Kaitz: Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Emery Lox: Small knife, thick coat

Pyro Vernon: Improvised club, small pack (food eaten), extra ethanol

Kayton Roys: Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel: Large pack (food eaten), slingshot

Zus Ryaov: Longbow and 11 arrows, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone: Large axe, large knife, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots

Trent Flee:

Scratch Standards: Medium pack (food for 1 more meals)

Lenox Carter: Large Pack (food for 2 more meals), Capitol medicine (Deep cuts)

RESERVE: Sword, lamp (Arcticmist) Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse)

Next Week: Death from below.


	29. Day 3: Death far below

A/N: Thank you all who reviewed for your comments on last chapter, especially Narcissa Weasley who pointed out my stupid mistake. Your tribute will now receive a free sponsor item for your help. Just so you guys know, I'm planning on staring a sequel to this the moment I hit twelve tributes, but that does not mean I will stop updating once a week, so don't think I've given up if you see I've started a new games!

Once again it helps if you don't try to understand Irre's actions in this chapter. Every character in this chapter is crazy.

**The Cornucopia (Or 'The Rink') of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

Georia stumbles through the snow, vision blurred, eyes stinging with partially frozen goo and half melted snow, shivering constantly as she hefts herself ever closer to the Cornucopia. A mass of whirring blades sounds above her as the Cornucopia comes into her line of sight from behind a large frozen boulder, and she stops, covering her ears to protect them from the noise. Looking up she notices a hover ship, raising a platform from the icy floor to the sky. She runs towards it, shouting between frantic gasps for it to stop, to rescue her. Maybe, she thinks to herself, the portly old woman in the many scarves and coats, or the taller driver will come down and help her if she screams loud enough. Maybe she can jump onto the platform and get on board the ship anyway. Maybe she can be saved from this nightmare just like that boy on the platform.

A large hand spills over the side as the wind blows the corpse sideways, for a second Demis looks like he might topple off, his almost shut, glassy, black eyes turning, almost as though he is rolling over in his sleep, to regard Georia. The Capitol man pulls Demis' body back to safety, and suddenly realisation comes crashing down around Georia's ears. Suddenly she remembers where she is, why she is here. She topples out of the sky midway through her leap at the disappearing craft, slamming teeth first into the ground with an all too loud, sickening crunch. Her head aches as she pulls herself to her feet. A slight amount of blood dribbles off her lip as her teeth dig into it. She whimpers and shakes, shuffling her numb feet over to the nine bags that remain. She climbs up the slope, and skids to the center of the icy pond, muttering all the while to herself.

"Nine bags. Nine bags for nine tributes. Ten are dead now. Five have left. I am one of the nine who has yet to claim her bag. When I have there will be only eight bags left. Six will have taken their bags. My old alliance had three members, which is six divided by two. It took me two minutes to get to my feet when I woke up this morning and remember why I was leaving my alliance. It took five minutes for them to disappear from sight in the snow. My new alliance will only have two members. Zus and me. Z-U-S plus G-E-O-R-I-A equals nine. Nine plus three, the number of people in my old alliance, equals twelve. Alew Ferove was only twelve years old.' Her shoulders shake as she remembers this fact and her voice wavers as silent tears run down her face, "He has been dead for three days. He died here."

Somehow counting relaxes her as she undoes the string around the sack and pulls out a long coat and a pair of boots. Not much, but it does help slightly. It stops her from concentrating on how cold she is. On how hungry she is. On how much she needs to talk to someone. To let it all out. To cry. But she can't. That would appear weak. You'd lose sponsors. It would actually be as sensible to cry as it would to walk up to the Careers and offer yourself as a human sacrifice. So instead she just sits here. Going nuttier than that weirdo from District One.

"HEY GIIIIRLIE!" A voice roars from above her, and Georia looks up in terror to see the aforementioned boy, accompanied by the similarly delusional Verain of District Two, shuffling towards her, their sleeping bags wrapped around their shoulders in a desperate attempt to keep warm. She presses herself closer to the bags, hoping against hope that they don't spot her. "HURRY UP! I DON'T LIKE BEING COLD YA KNOW!" Verain growls indignantly at him and pushes past, as though trying to prove him wrong by running the last bit, bow clasped in her blue hand. She only makes it a couple of steps, however, when her feet, tired and shaking from the cold, collapse under her and she falls flat on her face. Irre grins, laughing hysterically and she grits her teeth, bringing her fist up and jabbing it right into his eye patch. Irre grimaces, but keeps his mouth shut, remembering what Demis had said about fighting.

"Keep quiet idiot." Verain whispers, "Do you really want to scare away all the prey?"

"'Ey!" Irre complains, far too loudly for Verain's liking, "I'm allowed to talk at whatever volume I want! It's not like this is serious after all, it's just a game." Verain hits him in the stomach again and Irre's face contorts, he lashes out, his kama carving a jagged scar in the girl's face. Verain stops, drawing her knife and poking Irre in the stomach with it, her eyes filled with white hot anger as she prays for Irre to give any sort of response, so she can finally put an end to his life. Irre grins widely, drawing back his kama.

Something in the boy's brain clicks. The grin disappears, instead replaced by a confused frown, and he pushes past Verain, sending her into the snow. He pushes his way to the center of the pool in a single step, spinning and moving on it as if he were dancing on a ballet floor. The boy reaches the middle, grabs two bags and flings one at Verain, narrowly avoiding her head.

"Hey!" Verain roars, "Watch it!"

"Quiet." Irre smiles, raising a hand to his lips and shushing her. Verain lips quiver in fury as she changes into the new fur clothes they have been given. The only thing keeping her from tearing Irre apart now is Demis, who told them that if either didn't come back, the other would be 'worse than dead meat'. Verain shudders at just the thought of what that might mean.

"Goddamit Irre, I'm coming up there!" Verain snarls, sounding eerily similar to her mother as she says the words.

"Sure." Irre's voice drifts back, "But if you don't want a show, I suggest ya wait till I'm dressed!" Verain sticks out her tongue, retching at the thought of what Irre has just said.

"Hurry up!" She shouts back.

Irre, however, is doing anything but hurry. He parades around on the ice, enjoying the freedom of movement that the ice gives him. Irre spins on the spot, eyes closed, humming to himself. He looks down, seeing the little girl curled up by his feet, her white hair matching the polar bear skin coat she has been given, her dark eyes staring pleadingly up at him. Irre smiles, forcing down the voices in his head that tell him to disembowel her and serve her her own intestine. He kneels down and takes her hand.

"Hey there little angel..." He smiles, stroking her shivering face with a single, freezing finger. Georia looks up at him, still counting in her head, and opens her mouth, trying to speak. "This is gonna be fun." He twists his arm, tightening his hand around her face as he does so and slamming her head directly into the ice. The poor girl cries out, and Irre smiles toothily, bringing his hand up and slamming his elbow down onto her head, sending a dangerous cracking sound through the dark ice. "It'll be real fun, yeah! Make up for that little kid who Verain got to kill, yeah!" Georia cries out as Irre's foot crashes into her head, but the sound is too muffled by Irre's hand for Verain, who stands furious at the bottom of the slope, trying to listen through the wind, to hear. Irre gives a laugh, and spins Georia over to face him, so that he can see her face as the lights finally go out.

Irre's eyes meet hers and he suddenly stops, stepping away from Georia, who lies bruised and bloody on the ground. This girl is like him. Avoided, isolated from her District, who see her as a monster. Never able to speak kindly with anyone, knowing that they hate her. All that pent up anger and fear Irre gulps, remembering the jabbing fingers, the pointed tongues, the knives of the other Career trainees. The scar's they'd made. The names they'd called. Their dying screams as the entire class had met their fate at the end of his kamas. She is going to have to find someone else to kill her, because Irre can't. The crazy man looks at Georia and he sees the one person he can never kill, himself. Well, girl him. Well kid girl him. He smiles at her, taking another step back and bending down, placing something on the floor, then turning and walking away.

"ALL DONE!" Irre bellows as he trots down the mound to where Verain stands.

"What took you so long?" The tall girl asks, bewildered.

"Nature called." Irre grins as the two sink into the snowstorm, "I wouldn't go up there for a while."

"God you're disgusting."

Georia sits on the ice, fingering her bruises and staring wide eyed after the eye patch wearing boy. Had he just let her go? Why? It didn't make any sense. She knew he was messed up but seriously, this? She tries to get up, but her feet collapse under her, her wounds making her, at least for the time being, unable to support herself properly. Georia pulls herself to her hands and knees, pulling on a pair of gloves as she does so, and crawls over to the thing that Irre dropped.

A box. Georia stares at it for a moment. A painted metal box with a picture of a doll on the front and little trees with weird pompoms on them around the side. A star sits at the top of the tree and, clustered around the doll, there are little angels with trumpets. Georia raises and eyebrow as she stares down at the little metal thing, wondering whether she should open it.

"The hell."

* * *

Emery presses onwards through the water, skipping as she goes, her face joyous.

"What are you so happy about?" Phillip's voice drifts back to her, Emery giggles slightly, a thing which is uncommon for Emery, and stops by the wall, placing Phillip's body down in the shallow water and grinning in the general direction of Phillip's voice.

"I'm happy because we've won!"

"Won? But I'm dead." Phillip groans, as though only slightly inconvenienced by the whole situation.

"Yeah, but it's not like we were going to both be allowed to win anyway." Emery says, " I mean, how Katniss and Peeta is that?" Phillip chuckles, and Emery continues. "But look at where we are now. It's warm. It's got water. It's got food. We can sit here and survive while they all die outside!"

"You really think that?"

"Sure." Emery says.

"You really don't get it?" Phillip asks. "You remember I said it was too hot?"

"Yeah..."

"Well that's the point. The snow isn't supposed to kill. It's psychological. The snow is designed to drive people into the warmer caves."

"So? It's nice down here."

"Emery, how can you be so unbelievably thick when I, a figment of your imagination, am so smart?" Phillip sighs and Emery shrugs. "Are you just in denial or something?" Phillip fumes, and Emery can practically hear him facepalm. She smiles, leaning back against the warm wall with its hot glowing stones and the grinning as she settles back in the cool water at her feet.

"It doesn't matter, anything that comes along we can beat. We've got water, shelter, weaponry and food."

"Food?" Phillip asks. Emery giggles, settling down in the water, and flicks the knife out of her sleeve, cutting a little off of Phillip's thigh and cleaning the blood off in the water.

"You're not serious." Phillip groans. Emery smiles up at him, winks and pops the bit of thigh into her mouth. She chews, her face contorting uncomfortably as she tastes the raw flesh. "I thought you were joking!"

"You don't taste as good as you look." Emery mumbles to herself, cutting out another piece and watching as a little blood pours out of Phillip's leg and spurts into the water. Emery smiles and raises her knife to her lips, taking another bite and talking with her mouth full as she chews the meat. "Maybe you'd taste better if you were cooked a little. Ah well, I'm sure I'll get used to it."

"_Ah God, this is sick!"_ Claudius groans, as he dabs his mouth with a cloth to wipe away the vomit, _"Get the President on the phone, this girl's gotta die!"_

Emery smiles, chewing another bite of leg meat which, while not exactly the most tender in the world, is really starting to grow on her. She smiles as she slices yet more chunks off of Phillip's leg and swallows them, occasionally commenting and gulping down the meat as best she can.

"Kill it! KILL IT!" Claudius roars, very nearly vomiting yet again from the disgusting sight of seeing one human eat another which is, of course, much worse than watching Teagan Cooper when she was tortured and then shot and then slowly eaten alive.

It, of course, is not long before a crashing sounds from close by, Emery turns her head and, hefting the carcass off of her knees, heads towards the sound of the disturbance.

"I wouldn't..." Phillip begins, but Emery shushes him. "No, seriously, they're trying to lead the tributes down here! They're trying to get us as far away from the surface as possible, they're..." Emery shushes him again, raising a bloodstained finger to her mouth, and this time he is quiet, though he does sound slightly sick when she licks some of the blood off of her finger.

The crashing grows closer and louder as Emery steps towards the left hand turn at the end of the passage, curious. It is at this point that she realises that the crashing is coming through the wall.

The crashing gets louder, more frantic. Emery silently raises her hand to the wall, touching the rock. Her hand pulls back reflexively. The rock is boiling hot. The water on her hand bubbles and steams as she draws her hand away and shakes it, looking down and sucking her fingers, which she is sure have been blistered. The banging from inside the wall gets louder, and is soon joined by crashing from the left of her, where another passage leads into the distance. Emery winces as the soft, almost spongy substance beneath her feet begins to glow like the stones on the walls and ceiling, and water, a bit like the start of rain in District Six, drips onto her head. The banging is coming from all around her now. Above, to the right, in front, behind, the left. Water begins to trickle from in between every crack in the rocks, boiling and bubbling as it hits the rocks before dripping onto her head. She shrieks as hot water rises around her ankles and pours into her hair, scalding her and her partners body. But she doesn't try to run. That would be what they wanted her to do. It was the same with 'winning it for Phillip'. That was what they had wanted to happen. That was why they had lit up the cave lights, why they had given her a coat rather than expect her to go and get one. The Games Makers had wanted a perfect Katniss and Peeta. The boy dies and the girl wins for him. Well, that's what she had done. She had followed the lights. She had acted crazy, or cute, as they would probably say. She had done everything in her power so that she could get the most screen time possible. So that the cameras would be on her when she broke that unspoken rule. Eating another tribute. She had looked for other ways. Phillip had told her it was a trap and she had known. And she had been cool with that. Trap her and kill her. Emery smiles. She didn't want to win this without Phillip. She'd never get his voice out of her head after that. She had tried to make it easy for them to kill her, but they'd changed it so that the trap would actually help her survive better. She grits her teeth as the floor becomes unbearably hot and she collapses under the torrent of water, pinned to the ground under boiling waves, unable to stand. She staggers forwards, each step agony on the boiling rocks. She hadn't wanted to do that to Phillip, he had been hurt enough already, but she hadn't wanted to let him go. She had to, for Phillip. As crazy as it sounded she had done it for him. He had given that speech two days ago and somehow she had refused him. She had pretended she didn't know what he was talking about. She coughs up blood as tears run down her face, hissing as they make contact with the ground. She had only had a few mouthfuls, swallowed them and pretended to enjoy the taste. It had been the only sure fire way to make sure she would see Phillip again soon. She had expected them to kill her quickly and painlessly, then she would be free for ever, but this was agonizing. It didn't matter though, soon she could see the Phillip again. The real Phillip. They could be together forever. She stretches out her hand as she finally reaches Phillip's body, crawling over him, trying to protect his corpse as best as she can. Tears pour out of her eyes as she collapses under the staggering weight of boiling water, onto the burning tiles. She cries out for oxygen, but none comes.

In her last few seconds she thinks about her family, who she is leaving behind and feels a brief pang of guilt for her father and little brother and sister. They will have to grow up without her. Then again, she thinks, Phillip's parent's and his brother and sister will be growing up without him. If she came back alive, well, it wouldn't really have been very 'fair' now would it? Emery gasps as blood pours from her mouth and topples down on front of Phillip's body.

"Sorry." She croaks, unaware that she is mimicking Phillip's last words exactly.

"Don't worry about it." She hears Phillip's voice say, she looks up, her hazy eyes staring at Phillip, a glowing silver illusion shining through the torrent of water. She smiles, reaching up and takes the Phillip illusions hand. Then she breathes her last, falling back, her arm goes limp by her side and the water stops cools, slowly draining out of the floor of the great passageway.

From outside the Arena a cannon tolls, and a single white dove is knocked off it's perch on the dome, spreading it's wings it meets another, who has been waiting patiently for it, hovering close to where it roosts, and the pair spin away, climbing up above the clouds and further. Towards heaven.

* * *

A/N: And with that we have the death of yet another character who I really didn't want to die (The first was Demis). I guess even the author can't ave it their way in this. Sorry Meiveva Sirenice, I did love your characters and hope that you keep reading.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

Left: 13 tributes; 7 male, 6 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 65

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 70

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 110

Narcissa Weasly: 35

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 55

Beware of the Nargles: 100

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 90

wildone97: 80

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Kalieoki: 70

kuhse: 50

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 20

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

Tribute items:

Irre Massenhaft: Kama, dagger, cool eye patch, thick coat and boots, random Career stuff (At base)

Verain Longcast: Small knife, bow, thick coat and boots, random Career stuff (At base)

Jakob Hart: Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal: Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz: Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger, trident, thick coat and boots, random Career stuff (at base)

Pyro Vernon: Improvised club, small pack (food eaten), extra ethanol

Kayton Roys: Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel: Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, thick coat and boots, Weird Box for old forgotten holiday

Zus Ryaov: Longbow and 11 arrows, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone: Large axe, large knife, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots, Capitol medicine (bone repairer)

Trent Flee: Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Scratch Standards: Medium pack (food for 1 more meals), improvised club

Lenox Carter: Large Pack (food for 2 more meals), Capitol medicine (Deep cuts ½ empty), rope

RESERVE: Sword, lamp (Arcticmist) Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley)

Next Week: Fires, foes and family men


	30. Day 3: Fire and family men

AN: Next Games should be starting this Sunday (10th July) if all goes as planned, I intend to call it 'The Nth Hunger Games: Nightmare City' and it will be a little bit different from this Games. If your tribute is already dead, you missed your chance or you just want another go in one of my Games (or anyone's Games for that matter), I recommend you try there!

I've now placed a poll on my profile about how the next Games are going to work. It's a Quell but I'm having some trouble, so I put it up to you guys to decide!

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

Breath. Leap. Breath. Grab side and double up in pain. Spit blood on the floor. Yeah, this wasn't going quite as planned.

Scratch stops, groaning in pain as he stumbles and falls against the hard floor. He gasps, glad for the momentary pause in the snow. He finally catches his breath, before pulling the coat, and bandage back and staring at his side. The gouge has healed over a bit and looks considerably better than yesterday, but the cold certainly isn't helping it. He groans, glad that some sponsor had taken pity on him and sent him a coat for the day. Glad that he hadn't needed to stumble over to the Cornucopia in the bitter cold and meet the other tributes on equal ground. He grits his teeth, placing the bandages back over the gash, breathing in as he does so to make sure as much pressure can be supplied as possible. It is a light graze. Zus hadn't wanted to kill him after all, he had been questioning. Scratch growls. Zus. That over hyped jerk must have been sent at least twenty weapons by now. He probably had spears pouring out of his ears. What does Scratch have? A spear made out of a branch and a hard piece of rock he'd found on the first day! Don't they realise that he deserves to have as many weapons as the Careers? The Careers are selfish pigs! Scratch just needs to help his family.

He stumbles up the icy slope, scrambling on his hands and knees to reach the top of the petrified tree that lies deep under the surface of the icy block.

"_Why is he climbing the iceberg?"_ Claudius asks, _"Shouldn't he be heading for the caves?"_

The truth is that Scratch doesn't know why he is climbing the iceberg. Having spent the whole of yesterday in the deep jungle, no where near the caves, he is now accustomed to the space of outside, and is not looking forward to the difficulties posed by the cramped caves, even though he can see the glowing warm rocks, especially not when he is used to using a spear. Besides, Scratch is the adventurous sort. A real explorer. He trips, head smooshing into the soft snow, and pulls himself to his hands and knees, laughing as he spits out cold frost. What is the point of joining those other fools in the warmth when it is so nice out here, what with the cold air and the snow? They didn't get snow back in District Eleven, it would ruin the crops anyway, but if they did Scratch would have been only to happy to run out in it every year, make snow angels and do all those things that Capitol kids always did around Hunger Games time on those TV specials. Yeah, it was dangerous to act like this in the Hunger Games and, yes, the only other people still outside were probably either lost or Careers, but these things only came along once and, lost in the moment. He is so happy that he almost forgets why he is here. Why he is climbing. Only for an instant, however, as Scratch pulls himself to his feet and stumbles forwards again, using one hand to rest against the snowy platform and the other to hold his makeshift spear, and to apply pressure to the badly stitched wound under his coat. Scratch is no doctor, he is pretty sure that the stitching is the only reason the gash in his side as survived so long, that or it's shallow, but for all he knows he could have actually made it worse with the poorly washed needle and string he had found at the bottom of his pack.

With a final almighty grunt, Scratch pulls himself onto the ridge of the large iceberg, staring down an almost sheer drop to ten feet below. Looking down, Scratch spots two figures, one sitting on a petrified log, the other crouched over a canister on the end of a silver parachute, removing from the parachute a small sack, which appears to be almost crammed to the brim with food and supplies. Scratch recognises them almost immediately. The tall girl and the spiky haired boy with the constant smile spread over his face. Careers. Scratch ducks back, knocking a little snow off the side of the ridge and sending it tumbling down on the boy's head. Scratch gulps, expecting the boy to look up, but he doesn't, instead brushing it out of his hair and flinging it at Verain, who scowls at him and grips the small, almost surgical, knife that hides just inside her thick coat. Scratch stares on in wonder as Irre deflects a knife blow from the tall girl and both go straight back to what they were doing. Scratch stares. Why hadn't they looked up? Sure they were the hunters, the one's who were supposed to e sneaking up on him, and not the other way around, but still! They should have looked up. At leat a quick glance. They shouldn't have been so quick to just slash each others throats and then go right back to sitting down and pretending it never happened. The were mad. Not just mad, insane. Totally insane. They are keeping him from his family.

Scratch lifts himself to his feet on the ridge, casting a dark shadow on the pair below. Neither look up. Why would they?

"They're totally insane if they think they're keeping me from my family." Scratch mutters, the corners of his mouth twitching as he leaps from the ledge, spiraling towards with the wind rippling his coat like a pair of infernal wings. His face contorted with rage, his makeshift spear raised high above his head, knuckles white as he grips the spear with all his might. As he surges towards the ground Irre finally looks up, his wide mouth creasing into a slasher smile, his single eye burning with glee, as if he knew that Scratch had been hiding there all the while, which, knowing Irre, he probably had. Irre looks up at Scratch and Scratch looks down at Irre, and, for a moment, it looks like one of those old fashioned action movies that the people of the Capitol prize so highly, with the hero, a dark haired, dark skinned knight flying down from on high, about to face the villain, a ragged depraved beast, for the final time. And then the spear sped down and the second is shattered.

"This is gonna be f..." Irre whispers, before being knocked to the floor by Scratch, without even raising his hands in self defence.

"What was that Irre?" Verain asks, turning slowly with a pack of dried fruit gripped in her hand. She stares down at the flint spearhead that presses to her throat and smiles thinly. "Damn." She says, as though having a boy a year older than you press a spear to your throat is a simple inconvenience. Her lips twitch and Scratch growls as he sees her reach into her coat.

"Don't." He snaps, her smile stays, but she does as he asks, dropping her hand to her side and giving him a quizzical look and an odd little 'hmph'. "What?" Scratch growls, jabbing the spear towards the tall blond. Normally this sort of thing would have made Scratch sick, the very idea of attacking another living thing disgusts him. The Career doesn't really count as living though does she. That girl he found in the jungle, District Five, that was probably Verain, that or the girl had been watching at the time. Besides, she is keeping him from his family. His hands shake as he grips the spear, prepares to push it forwards into her soft flesh, through the neck and straight into the windpipe. Rendering all sound useless, puncturing the nerves that make up the voice box. An almost instant death.

But he doesn't kill her. Something stops him. Maybe it's the thought of all that blood spurting out of the girl's frail neck, or the image of the lights in her eyes going out in her eyes as she plunges to the ground, or the idea that killing her would make him as bad as she is. But Scratch doesn't think so, as pulls the spear sideways, slashing her arm with the point and watching as she winces. It's just that a quick death is too good for her.

She recovers quickly, drawing her knife from her coat and slashing at Scratch, who somehow manages to dodge, knocking the blade from her hand in an amazing stroke of luck and shoving her against the icy wall with the blunt end of his spear. The smile returns, and Verain spits in his face, kicking him backwards and leaping for the knife. She grabs it and flings it at him, missing the lanky boys head by inches and grazing his shoulder as the knife passes over it. Scratch grimaces and shoves the spear forwards, jabbing the tip into her neck and resting it there, keeping her pinned to the ground, eyes dark, a sly little grin creeping slowly over her face.

"What's so funny?" Scratch mutters, staring down at the girl on the ground.

"Do you have a family?" Verain giggles, not meeting Scratches gaze as she stares at something behind her.

"You're keeping me away from them." Scratch growls, "I'm doing it for them. They need me."

"Really," The girl purrs, her voice high and amused, still looking away, "So you guys are pretty poor, huh? More fool you. I've never really had that problem myself." Scratch snarls at her, and she gives a savage laugh, "What? My family had the balls to step up and actually do something with my life! We didn't just sit back and hope we didn't get picked. And, you know what? Since we had guts, we live in a freaking mansion! Where the hell do you live then?" Scratch grimaces. She was just goading him. She's trying to get under his skin. Tell her, but don't get mad.

"I live in a shack." Scratch growls sullenly. The words feel empty in his mouth, sad, miserable, insignificant. "On a plantation of some fifty four similar shacks, three larger lunch houses and a coordinators building half a mile down the road, 15 miles from Center Square, 2 miles from the nearest Peacekeeper control node. My shack has only one floor and only four rooms, three of which are bedrooms. The only water comes from a hose out back. There are seven people living in our house, me, my mother, father, brother, sister and aunt and uncle who are expecting twins..."

"Shut up." Verain tells him, when she has finally stopped gaping from this sudden intake of information.

"Sorry, but I kinda like that sort of thing, housey stuff, you know, architecture, and I didn't think shack was really that good for..."

"I said shut up." Verain growls, her smile drooping slightly as she continues. "You said there were seven in your family?" Scratch nods, and Verain chuckles, her eyes finally moving up to look into his eyes. Scratch's ears prick up as, for the first time, he hears a rustling sound behind him. He turns his head slightly, recognising the one-eyed, grinning loon who is holding his bruised head in pain and dragging himself to his feet behind Scratch.

"Tell me Scratch," Verain hisses as she spins to her feet, dislodging the boy as she knocks his legs out from under him, sending him into the hard ground, "Those six people you share that house with, how do you think they'll feel when I kill you." The two figures giggle slightly as they close in on Scratch.

"This is gonna be fun!" Irre snickers.

* * *

"Ah fudge-nuggets!" Pyro shouts, smacking into the snow covered wall for what must have been the fifteenth time and falling backwards again, somehow managing to land on his face like he always does. Lenox rolls her eyes, shivering against th cold and stamping her feet.

"Come on." She complains, "Aren't you supposed to be looking for a Muttmoth to kill?" Things weren't going as planned. Sure this guy was thick, but he might actually be too thick for Lenox to control, as oppose to too clever. A clever tribute could have helped build a fire (which, to be fair Pyro had offered to do, but it had been less than comforting that he'd told he'd have to use her hair). A clever tribute could have made a plan to get out of here, or make some sort of weapon, or even find food and water for them. What had Pyro done? He'd ripped up their packs, taken her sleeping bag and her bandages and used them to make makeshift ponchos for them and smeared the remainder of her cut lotion all over their faces and feet. And now he'd seen a block of ice he thought looked thin and what does he do? Try to break through it with his head!

"_Nuts or what?" _Claudius mutters.

"Just one more go!" Pyro chirps, charging at the ice block. Lenox looks away, crossing her arms and gripping her shoulders for warmth. If these ponchos Pyro had made were supposed to keep you warm they didn't, and the oily cut remedy is beginning to make her feel very uncomfortable. However, for some reason neither her feet nor her face have had any trouble with keeping warm recently. Either it was just that they had gone numb, which they didn't feel like, or they actually weren't being effected by the cold. Maybe Pyro knows more than he's letting on.

A gigantic crash comes from behind her as Pyro bounces off the wall and smacks his face.

"_Or maybe he's just an idiot!"_

Pyro rolls on to his hands and knees and bounds up to full height, a dejected look on his face as he wanders away from the pillar of ice and towards Lenox.

"What were you blabbering about?" He asks her, and she growls, scooping the pile of things that, until a couple of minutes ago, had been safe in the bottom of the bag, up off the ground and fixing him with a steely glare.

"We need to find something to make a fur coat out of," She growls, "One of those Muttmoth things that Templesmith was blathering on about."

"_Blathering? How dare she!"_ Claudius pouts as the girl stumbles along with the supplies, her eyes fixed on the discolored man in front of her, making sure that he didn't get too far off track.

"Well," Pyro mumbles, "We could just go into that cave over there." He points behind him with his thumb, to an ominously glowing cave with what looks like running water in it. "Water ain't cold, right?"

"It's a trap." Lenox tells him, and he stares bewilderedly at the cave, "What? It obviously is! It could only be more obvious if they had arrows pointing to it!"

"So whadda we gonna do?" Pyro mumbles, squirming slightly and fiddling with the empty lighter he has tied around his neck.

"Keep walking." Lenox snaps. The man mountain shrugs, picks up his improvised club and trudges off, humming to himself as he goes.

Seconds tick by. Seconds turn into minutes, minutes become thirty minutes, which then becomes an hour, and Lenox becomes bored.

"God." Lenox spits, sitting down on a log. She angrily scatters the rations on the ground and sets about rubbing her weary, sticky feet, "When is one of those things gonna turn up?" Pyro shrugs and Lenox glares up at him. He really is infuriating. Not as infuriating as April, Essence or maybe Scratch, but infuriating nonetheless. She stands up and looks around.

"Why the hell is that cave over there?" She yelps. Pyro looks over with dull eyes.

"'Cos we gone in a big circle."

"You were supposed to be navigating." Lenox fumes.

"I was! An' I thought it would be fun if we went in one big circle!" Pyro chirps, missing the girl's furious gaze as she turns and begins to march away. "Hey, where ya going Drowny Girl?" Pyro slurs, and Lenox turns to him, her eyes filled with rage.

"It's Lenox, OK! Lenox!" She snaps at him.

"So, where ya going L'ox?" Pyro asks, somehow managing to mispronounce her name in the most horrible and infuriating way possible.

"To think." Pyro's face drops like a ton of bricks. That wasn't good. Thinking wasn't good to start with. People who went to think never came back. She stalks away from him. Fully intending to run as soon as she gets past the dark icy pillar they had passed ten minutes ago. Fully intending to flee from the stupid, stupid man and be free of him. After all she'd been looking for protection, and this guy was more trouble than it was worth. Not only was he loud and annoying and incompetent, but he was big, and the Careers were bound to be chasing him. He seemed like a tough opponent at least.

"_Seemed being the operative word here!"_

She turns away and is determined to walk forever. Determined to find somewhere to hide, away from the rest, and wait for them all to starve.

In the Hunger Games, though, being determined isn't worth the amount of letters it uses.

Lenox stops, her ears pricking up as they are suddenly filled with and odd growling noise. She looks up the slope she had been climbing to the top, and her face grows pale. Above her, standing dark and terrible, like some great avenging beast, is the Muttmoth they have been hunting. A gigantic, hair covered elephant, at least twice as big as it has any right to be, with large, serrated metal plates attached to each ear and a ball and chain fixed to the ends of each tusk. It would have looked ridiculous if not for the fact it were so big, and angry, and charging. Lenox turns and flees back the way she has come, blurting out a hurried warning to Pyro as she passes him again.

"Thinking time's over! Run!" The other tribute is on his feet almost immediately, fleeing from the beast but neglecting to pick up any of the items Lenox had scattered. The long legged girl winces as the boy falls in behind her and she hears the food and drink they had left crushed into a paste over her shoulder. She quickly assesses the situation, looking around for anywhere to go. A wall in front, a wall to the left, an elephant behind. That only left the glowing cave to the right that she had been trying to ignore since they got here. It had been obvious that the Games Makers were just trying to lead them into a trap after all. She gulps, better a possible death than certain death. She turns and begins to make her way towards the cave, Pyro hot on her heels and the Mutt hot on his. One hundred meters to run to safety. Lenox grits her teeth and presses onwards, stumbling through the deep snow. Cold wind whistles around her, snow whips up in front and clings to her face, clothes and feet.

"God." She gasps, turning her eyes to the artificial sky and making a face, "I hope Scratch is having a better day than I am."

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

Left: 13 tributes; 7 male, 6 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 75

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 50

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 25

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 110

Narcissa Weasly: 45

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 65

Beware of the Nargles: 100

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 20

wildone97: 90

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 60

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 30

sugercoated: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

Tribute items:

Irre Massenhaft: Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Verain Longcast: Small knife, small pack

Jakob Hart: Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal: Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz: Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Pyro Vernon: Improvised club, makeshift poncho and boots, extra ethanol, lighter (empty)

Kayton Roys: Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel: Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov: Longbow and 11 arrows, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone: Large axe, large knife, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots, Capitol medicine (bone repairer)

Trent Flee: Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Scratch Standards: Medium pack (food for 1 more meals), improvised club, 5 strips of beef jerky

Lenox Carter: Food for 2 meals, 5 fever pills, 2 liters of water, makeshift poncho, (Deep cuts ½ empty), rope

RESERVE: Sword, lamp (Arcticmist) Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie)

* * *

Next Week: Half way done (And a new Games!)


	31. Day 3: Halfway

A/N: The Nightmare Games is up Sunday (10th July)! I've been doing a lot of work on it recently so I'm afraid this is going to be a rather short chapter. Enjoy!

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

Verain draws her bow from her back, loading an arrow on to it and smiling sweetly down at the taller boy who lies, spreadeagled, on the ground.

"You can't do this." The boy croaks in a half whisper, eyes hazy as he tries to focus on the arrow aimed at his chest, "My family..." Verain cuts across him.

"Poetic justice couldn't make it, I'm afraid! You get me instead. Name's Reality Check!" She laughs, firing a shot from the bow straight at the boy, intending to hit him in the side, send blood gushing over the snow. Have some fun. She hadn't intended to miss, but miss she had. The boy was on his feet, surging towards her with his makeshift spear held high above his head. She dodges, barely, and Scratch grins, turning on his heel and smacking her across the face with the shaft of the spear. Verain stumbles but quickly regains composure, snarling and leaping towards him, pulling her pin like dagger out of her coat as she leaps. Scratch roars in pain as the blade nicks his arm and draws a small bead of blood to the surface. If only that were his wrist, Verain thinks, licking her lips and squaring her stance, ready for the next attack. It jams into her stomach, taking her breath away and slamming her back into the ice wall of the narrow ravine, sending snow toppling down into her hair. Damn, the gangly kid was stronger than she'd thought. She groans, dodging another spear thrust and a misaimed blow of a kama, as Irre slashes at Scratch but misses wildly, almost taking off the top of her head with his blade. She growls, stepping forwards and cutting at Scratch again and again. The boy hops and twitches out of the way of every blow, the sharp cruel knife almost, almost cutting his soft, tanned skin so many times, but just falling short of each one. The boy's face is a mask of terror as he lashes out with the spear, catching Verain in the forehead and ripping it open. Blood splashes across the snow and Verain cries out, stabbing at the boy's hand in a fit of rage. Irre finally makes his move, lashing out with the diabolically curved kama at the lanky teen, who dodges and slashing the blade across Verain's shoulder as it completes its wide arc. Verain snarls at him, showing her teeth, and launches herself at Scratch, digging the knife into the shaft of the spear and ripping it upwards, tearing a huge crack in the side. The boy growls, swinging the spear away and wrenching the dagger out of her hands along with it. She yelps as the spear swings back around, the head slamming straight into her leg as the shaft buckles and breaks. Bark and wood splashes everywhere in a miniature explosion of two day old wood, vine and rot. The three tributes wince as they are covered in the stuff, covering their eyes in dust and cutting their skin. Irre grins as he lashes out, slashing his kama across both tributes stomachs and kicking them backwards. The cut isn't deep because of Irre's eye also being full of dust, and the fact he is yet to get accustomed to the lack of depth perception, but it it enough to tip Verain off.

"You're trying to kill me!" Verain shouts, more exasperated than scared by the giggling loon who stands in front of her, casually licking her blood of his kama. "You're really trying to kill me!"

"I was under the impression," Irre hisses, as his already wide smile widens, making him look rather like the lovechild of a puffer fish and a shark, "That that was the whole point of these Games." Verain bellows at the top of her lungs, leaping at him, unarmed as she is, and slamming him straight in the jaw with her elbow. He yelps, covering his mouth with his hand and is immediately punched in the stomach for his troubles. Irre stumbles back, lashing out at Verain with his kama and cutting a jagged scar straight up her face. The girl growls, pulling back her fist and preparing to strike. Irre grins, wrapping the kama around her wrist. It is a clear choice. Attack me or keep your hand. Verain snarls at him, head butting him in the face and knocking his kama away with a quick to his hand.

Suddenly Scratch recovers, clearing the dust from his eyes and, caught by this sudden turn of events, hurls himself at the two tributes, grabbing on to Verain and pulling her to the ground, while Irre just manages to step out the way.

"Sorry Verain," Irre grins as he kicks her square in the face, before turning and bounding away, "It's been fun and all, but one of us is gonna hafta die eventually, and I'd rather be facing the crazy kid in the final eight instead of you! Take it as a compliment!" Verain decides not to take it as a compliment, roaring abuse after the District One tribute as she knocks the scraggly teen, Scratch, backwards and kicks him in between the legs. Scratch inhales sharply, practically hearing the uncomfortable groan of every sympathetic male in the audience. He reaches inside his coat and scrabbles around inside it for something. Verain growls, stepping on his other hand and causing him to cry out. The boy growls as Verain purposefully kneels on his hand, she smirks sourly at him and draws back her fist, preparing to punch him in the face.

"You know what the first thing I'm gonna do when I win the games" Verain snarls, her voice dark and strained with hatred, "I'm gonna track down that miserable little shack you were blabbering on about, and I'm gonna kill every last one of that stinking family of yours. I'd be doing them a favour!" Scratch's eyes fill with hatred and he continues to scrabble around in his coat. She laughs and swings her fist down, flicking out an arrow from her sleeve so she can finally end this boy. She closes her eyes in anticipation, but is greeted not by a muffled grunt, but by the snapping of an arrow and the disgusting crunching sound of cracking bones. Her own. She winces and looks down at the boy, who is holding a fist sized, black rock in between his hands. His token. He snarls at Verain, taking advantage of her stunning and shoves her off of him, lifting the black rock into the air, he climbs on top of her, making sure to trap her arms with his knees, and slams the rock into her face. There is an all too audible crack and blood blooms from her nose. The pressure is unbearable, the sheer force that such a seemingly small rock holds is staggering. Her face feels bruised and grazed, her body gagging for air as her nose and mouth covered by rough stone. Her feet kick at the boy as she struggles to be free, and she hears the boy on top of her grunt in pain. Scratch takes a deep breath, as though wondering whether it were a good idea to take it/c off her face, or maybe just calming himself down. She gasps as he pulls the rock away from her face, gagging and coughing for air. Scratch stops for a second and stares down, his face creasing as he grinds his teeth, his dark eyes now even darker. He is shaking all over, and Verain can't help but think that she's only seen one time before when someone were as angry as Scratch is now. Her brother, Enoch, right before he took the life of the tall eight girl who had taken a finger from him. Verain closes her eyes as the stone rushes down again, slamming into the side of her face this time and shaking a jaw. The stone lifts up and then arcs back down, smashing into her nose again to the sound of another sickening crack. Verain cries out, now sure that her nose is broken. She opens her eyes again, squinting through bloody hair at the boy kneeling on her. He looks rather sick, but the hate is still held in his eyes.

"Don't. You. Dare. Hurt. My. Family!" Scratch roars, slamming the rock into her head again and again.

"_This. Is. Standards."_ Claudius roars as Verain squirms and shakes from silent sobs as the black, and now bloody red, stone slams into her face again and again. Blood dribbles from Verain's lip as her eyes become hazy, her nose now clearly broken and her mouth hanging agape. She squints down at the boy and her leg kicks out, slashing across the edge of something sharp. She holds back a yelp and her lips curl inwards, holding her breath as she recognises the item. Her knife. She squirms and shudders, moving her toes around the hilt of the small knife at her feet as the boy continues to shout and slam the rock into her face. She holds back tears now. After all, she still has a chance. Better than a chance now, she thinks through her already concussed mind. He's the one who doesn't have a chance now. She smiles slightly, her body still shaking with involuntary tears as the rock continues to slam into her face again and again. There are tears running down Scratch's face as well now, as he shakes with rage and sickness, disgusted at himself yet unable to stop battering the younger girl with the blackened rock. She grins up at him and his stomach flips, sensing that something is wrong.

"Die asshole!" She growls, kicking her leg up. The knife, caught in between her big toe and second one, pulls up from the ground and is quickly released, spinning through the air towards the back of the boy's head. Scratch spins, trying to spot where the attack is coming from. The knife catches him in the side of the neck, knocking him to the floor. Verain gasps as the lights begin to go out in the boy's eyes, a single tear still clinging to his eyes. He tries to raise his head, clinging at Verain's neck as she tries to crawl away from him. She tries to stand as her brain pulls itself together. She needs bandages, she needs to get to her pack and get her dagger. She needs to survive, to join her brother and sister, to show that she's not the weak one. Blood ours from her nose as she crawls away. She has to survive. Show Enoch. Show Ventura. Show everyone that she is stronger than them. The boy's fingers stretch out, his face strains in anger and sadness as blood spurts from his neck and dies the already bloody snow a dark crimson. The boy's eyes bulge as he clamps his hands around her neck, and his voice pours out in a dull, inhumanely furious, voice.

"You. Won't. Hurt. Them..." He gurgles, his voice trailing off as his hands tighten reflexively, and his body tenses. Her teeth ground in fury as she realises what she is trying to do. How dare he even try. How dare he not simply give in and die. She really would kill his family now. They deserved it. He couldn't kill her. She is Verain. She is a Longcast.

Scratch's hands go lax soon enough, but by then it is too late for Verain. A pair of cannons fire off. The arena goes suddenly silent, and then the snow begins. Burying the bodies, hiding the evidence.

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

Left: 11 tributes; 6 male, 5 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 85

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 60

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 35

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 120

Narcissa Weasly: 55

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 75

Beware of the Nargles: 100

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 30

wildone97: 100

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 70

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 30

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft: Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Jakob Hart: Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal: Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz: Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Pyro Vernon: Improvised club, makeshift poncho and boots, extra ethanol, lighter (empty)

Kayton Roys: Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel: Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov: Longbow and 11 arrows, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone: Large axe, large knife, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots, Capitol medicine (bone repairer)

Trent Flee: Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Lenox Carter: Food for 2 meals, 5 fever pills, 2 liters of water, makeshift poncho, (Deep cuts ½ empty), rope

RESERVE: Sword, lamp (Arcticmist) Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie)

* * *

Next Week: Further down and further in


	32. Day 3: Arrows

A/N: This next chapter is really short, but I really wanted to post something up this weekend. This will be the last chapter for the week I'm afraid. I have a camp to go on, so I won't be writing again until I get back next Saturday. Enjoy and don't forget to sponsor!

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

"Two cannons! Two! Seriously?" Kayton gasp breathlessly as her and Trent scurry through the glowing caves. "I bet that was the Careers!" Trent nods thoughtfully, he hadn't said anything since they'd wandered into here. Just muttered something about 'sticking to the rules' whenever she asked why on earth they were going back into the caves where Hype had died, when they were so obviously trapped. Was he just scared of the cold? After all they'd spent pretty much all of the second day just sitting up on that rock plateau no doing anything, keeping out of the sight of the cameras as well as the tributes. Why were they heading into the caves now? She turns to Trent as the two trip and hurl themselves through the cave system, determined to finally get a good answer out of him. "Why are we even down here? This is probably where the Careers are! I wouldn't be too surprised if we find them all hiding around the next corner!"

"We're sticking to the rules..." Trent whispers, his voice harsh and raspy. The rules. Of course. Why had she even bothered asking? The caves were now quite empty, completely cleares of any evidence of the death of Hype Tarick just days before. It was too clean and definitely far too quiet. All she could hear was their feet slosh and splash through the warm water, and the soft sound of Trent Flee's breathing, the only thing about him other than those eyes that still appeared to be alive on him. It was kind of starting to creep her out. She looks away from the boy as they lope through the water, staring at the wall for fear of looking into Trent's eyes again. She was beginning to wonder why she had accepted his alliance in the first place. Well, because she had been outnumbered three to one when they had turned up of course! But now Hype was dead and Georia had left in the night. She'd been expecting as much honestly, large alliances weren't good if they weren't killing people, and Georia had been giving her odd looks ever since she'd first met her, it wasn't like she hadn't expected her to run off at some point. Kayton was just glad that the little albino hadn't tried to slit their throats as she left, it would have been the clever thing to do. She groans as they stomp further through the caves. Maybe she was just getting paranoid. Who was she kidding? Of course she was getting paranoid, it would be insane not to! The girl shivers as she edges further and further down the corridor. Suddenly her ears prick up, and she stands surprised, like a rabbit caught in the headlights as she hears distant voices, and the sound of sloshing feet, draw closer. Kayton whimpers, pushing herself into a different passage, and flattening herself into the cracks in the wall as the footsteps draw near. Trent's eyes follow her, and he smiles, turning the corner and pressing himself into the folds in the wall as well, his breathing suddenly shallows and his eyes grow dark as he stares down at her. The short, spunky little girl from Seven. A brief smile flashes over his face. If anyone should be able to deal with whoever was coming round that corner, it should be her.

Fortunately the 'whoever' wasn't much to worry about. Trent almost sighs with relief as he sees the small, white haired girl wander around the corner, blinking at her surroundings through large, doe like eyes. Georia Hanel. He'd been wondering where she'd got to. The girl looks around as she gets closer to them, not noticing them as she passes close by. Trent grins down at Kayton, who shakes her head rigorously, the whole idea of going down here had been to avoid trouble, hadn't it, not to get in trouble! The boy's fingers twitch and his eyes flick this way and that as Georia draws ever nearer, staring down at a small Christmas themed box she holds in her hands as she tries to open it with the small knife held in her hands. Trent rolls his eyes, even he could see, in the dim light of the cave, that the locking mechanism was in the sides not the front, and he had never even studied mechanisms, coming from a District which didn't use it that much. He'd just read about them. It was amazing what could come in useful when you really needed it. Trent's hand whips out and, in the dark of the cavern, both Georia and Kayton give a short shout as his hand wraps around the formers neck. Trent smiles, pulling Georia into the corridor and letting her go. She tries to run, but Trent's hands come down either side of her on the cavern walls, pinning her down. The girl squirms in the larger figures grasp, trying to duck away from him and scurry to safety. She twists and turns, but Georia comes from the textiles District, and Trent does not. Having years of experience catching and pinning animals, the boy is well versed at keeping a hostage from moving, and within seconds his hands have found Georia's shoulders, stopping the girl from moving. Kayton looks up at Trent and shivers. He may have been trying to keep the alliance together or something, but couldn't he do it in a slightly less creepy way. Trent smiles down at Georia in what is clearly designed to be a reassuring smile but comes across more as a sick, slightly insane grimace. He opens his mouth and speaks, his dark eyes flashing, his voice barely a whisper.

"Hello Georia... Welcome back..."

* * *

Alylla groans, rubbing the cream into her ruined hand as she slowly stumbles through the snowy wasteland, blood occasionally dripping from the gash on her face and into the thick snow below. This was not good. If the Games Makers had any Mutts out there, the chances were they could see blood in snow pretty easily, and would follow it as keenly as if it were a pillar of fire. She didn't like that idea, being hunted down and eaten by Mutts that was. It didn't really appeal to her. Alylla grimaces, gritting her teeth as she stumbles through the wintry wasteland towards the inviting caves, which would surely shelter her from the raging blizzard. A groan forces its way through her lips as her hand twitches in the storm, and a fiery pain shoots through her entire arm. Alylla shivers, painfully digging a long metal canister out of her pocket with her other hand, and applying a bit more of the liquid to her broken hand, cringing as it touches the skin.

"_That's a Capitol medicine known as MX-49, an untested bone repair serum designed to sooth and fix." _Claudius helpfully informs the bemused audience, _"As we all know bones are very difficult to fix without weeks of rest and specialist care. If this serum is a success well, it'll still need weeks of rest and specialist care, but you'll feel good, and that's the main thing isn't it!"_

The girl gasps as she tries to reapply the bandages, her shaky hand creasing and crumpling the dirty, snow covered wrap as she tries to get it back into its original position. It was so much easier to do back when it wasn't snowing. She grits her teeth, biting back tears as the pain continues to burn into her broken hand, gripping the machete in her hand as if it were a support, some vital rope dragging her on to safety and victory. Every step is a battle against the pressing storm. Each involuntary hand movement shoots sparks of pain through her arm, forcing the simple process of walking to grind into an even slower pattern of forced stumbling and aggravated grunts. Alylla winces and begins trying to count the positives. Sure her hand was busted, but at least she still had the knife to stick in the guts of anyone who got in her way, and at least she wasn't dead. Being in constant pain was a damn side better than being dead. If she was dead she wouldn't be able to beat that Zus kid after all!

Clutching her hand and gasping through the pain, Alylla finally batters through the blizzard and crawls into the caves. As soon as the warm air hits her she seemingly rejuvenates, pulling herself to her feet and leaning against a wall. Down, miserable, but by no means defeated. Alylla clenches her fists, eyes dark as she steps into the dim light of the caves, listening to the soft pitter patter of feet as they slosh through the shallow water, and the sound of chattering voices. As Alylla peers into the darkness of the cave, she can just about make out a pair of figures, each looking slightly frazzled in the dull light as one of them drags the other, shorter one, along, mouthing words of encouragement as they stumble through the passageway. Alylla grins widely, stumbling forwards after them. This is going to be too easy. Clutching her battle ax, which could no longer be used effectively with a single hand, but could still be swung in a nice arc with the hope of severing their heads before they notice her, she stumbles forwards, her battered hand flying out to the side and spasming in pain as the hand brushes against the wall. It is all she can do not to scream out in pain, but rather make a small gasping sound.

An arrow shoots past her head, scraping a small chunk of hair out before slamming into the rocks behind and breaking.

"_Guess who fired that kids!" _Claudius chirps, _"Everyone know? Good. Now let's see how long it takes Alylla to figure that out!"_

Alylla winces and swears loudly, conveniently drowning out the curse of the sniper, which he was very grateful for. Alylla dives as the next arrow fires, accompanied by a string of insults as it rips at the boot she is wearing, tearing off a layer of fur and leaving her feet conspicuously bare. Not exactly the lightest of people, the impact she makes as she falls face first into the deeper pool near the entrance of the caves. Finally alerted to the big girl's presence, the two figures at the end of the passage turn, staring at water appears to be some sort of massive, thrashing and roaring mutt at the other end of the passage, slipping as it attempts to stand. One of the figures gasps, wrapping their arm around the other figure's waist and beginning a painful sort of three legged run. Alylla watches with a grimace as her prey disappears into the dark and, despite all the curses and the thrashing and the pain rushing through her body as her hand slams against the rocks again and again and again, her brain keeps racing.

The first thing she notices is the fact that the water tastes off. Sweeter than usual water and with an odd after taste, kind of like honey. But that isn't really important to her right now, Alylla thinks, mentally throttling herself for getting so distracted, what is more important is the fact she has just been attacked. She turns her mind towards that instead, attempting to work out exactly how and why she had been attacked. The how was easy, some idiot with a bow and an overactive ego thought they could take her down. The why was slightly more complicated. Why had they waited that long for example, to attack her when they could have shot her at any moment. They could have just got here but, unless they had omnipotent powers, they would have needed to be already perfectly sighted up before then to fire a perfect shot like that. They could have shot at her in the snow then, but then it would have got lost, and the tirade they had been on afterwards clearly showed they wanted to keep arrows. The attack was obviously designed to look like a random target, since the shooter only fired once she had made a noise. That was probably for the cameras mostly as, although it stopped Alylla from killing the next person with a bow she met extra horribly as revenge, because she would think they hadn't been targeting her specifically, they could have got a better shot in while she was walking. Chances were they were trying to trick the Capitol sponsors into thinking they were an amazing shot, capable of killing, or at least coming close as she evidently wasn't dead, from a single sound in the dark. There were probably severa people who were hate filled, not to mention stupid, enough to try and profit off of Alylla's death as a cheap way to gain sponsors, as oppose to have the decency to meet her face to face. Those were the Careers, any and all of those who survived, the three boy, the ten boy and Zus. There was only one of those list who she knew had a bow, and, coincidently, he was also the only person in the Arena with as colorful a vocabulary as Alylla herself. Zus.

"_Seven minutes. We've just wasted seven minutes of our life waiting for Miss Stone to figure all that out! Goody!_

Alylla growls, gripping the knife in her hand even tighter as she is suddenly seized by a fierce fury. Alylla growls as her hand slams hard onto the ground and she begins to rest her weight on it. The pain is excruciating as something inside the hand makes and ominous cracking noise, wrenching away all hope of the damaged limb ever repairing. The girl grits her teeth, denying Zus the satisfaction of screaming out in pain as silent tears form in her eyes and run down her snow-reddened cheeks. Her entire body shakes as she inches herself to her feet, using the offending arm for a rest to prevent her from caving in again and falling back into the strangely tasting water. Her entire form screams for her, gasping against the searing pain. It feels like the weight of one thousand men, none of them particularly light, are pressing down on her back. Like she has been sandpapered all over, had the bones forcibly removed from her hand and her entire body shoved into a pressure cooker. Alylla finds her feet, and what has felt like an eternity suddenly finishes, as her hand comes away from the hard rock, and the majority of the pain relents, leaving her cupping a very limp, and altogether unnervingly grey hand in her other. Gulping back tears, she turns to the snowy wastes and looks across them, catching sight of a dark figure, hunched against the cold as he attempts to take position for another shot into the cave. Alylla snarls, letting her dead hand drop at her side and gripping the hilt of the hilt of the massive axe on her back with the other as she begins to run towards the badly hidden figure.

Zus grimaces, watching her as she bares down on him and leveling up his bow, preparing to fire for a third time.

Alylla snorts. He is going to pay for those arrows. Pay for them with his own blood. She would only need two strokes to cut through his thin body despite its cursing voice and dark tan. Nothing would save it. It only vaguely hits Alylla as she storms over the snow towards the bow armed man, that that is the exact number of shots he fired at her. Alylla smirks. How poetic.

* * *

A/N: If any of you can guess who it was that Alylla saw in the caves, I will award you an additional twenty points!

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

District 2 OUT :(

Left: 11 tributes; 6 male, 5 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 95

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 70

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 45

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 140

Narcissa Weasly: 65

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 85

Beware of the Nargles: 110

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 40

wildone97: 110

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 40

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft: Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Jakob Hart: Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal: Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz: Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Pyro Vernon: Improvised club, makeshift poncho and boots, extra ethanol, lighter (empty)

Kayton Roys: Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel: Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov: Longbow and 11 arrows, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone: Large axe, large knife, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots, Capitol medicine (bone repairer)

Trent Flee: Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Lenox Carter: Food for 2 meals, 5 fever pills, 2 liters of water, makeshift poncho, (Deep cuts ½ empty), rope

RESERVE: Sword, lamp (Arcticmist) Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie)

* * *

Next Week: The Capitol Liberation Front!


	33. Day 3: Lost plans

A/N: Almost at the final eight now, guys (In fact I hope to be presenting you with your final eight in two chapters time if all goes to plan! It's interesting that, only now, after mercilessly butchering over half of the major cast, I have only just got to one of my best planned plot points for one of the characters. I also recognised a catastrophic mistake in the chapter 'In the Snow' in which I accidentally deleted a full two lines, making a major plot point completely incomprehensible! Ah well, enjoy this chapter and see you next week!

**The Arena of...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

"_Hello, viewers of the wonderful Ninety Fourth Hunger Games! Welcome back. As you may remember we spent last weeks update with bitter rivals Zus Ryaov and Alylla Stone, both of District Nine, sparring it out to see who will be advancing in the Games and who, if either, will be dying a gruesome, gruesome death! Wouldn't you love to know who's gonna win?_

_Well tough luck, 'cos you're not finding out this chapter! Here's some stuff with District Three's favorite tag team, Kate and Jakob!"_

There is one thing, and just one thing which, throughout all of Panem, District Three is known for. That thing is technology. They aren't known for fishing, they aren't known for masonry and they most certainly are not known for running while carrying injured allies.

Nonetheless, this is exactly what Kate is attempting to do now as the sounds of clashing and grunting waft down the dark tunnel behind her, splashing through the ankle deep water with her District partner stumbling, half conscious, beside her. The boy doesn't look well, his face blackened by smoke from the dead speaker system and a worse for wear looking tape recorder still clutched in his charred hand. Kate looks down at the shorter boy and grimaces. While she had been away from the machine when it had exploded, Jakob had been, literally, right on top of it, and the second explosion had not done him any good. Looking down at Jakob, Kate can't help but feel a pang of pity for the boy who, only hours before, she had believed had wanted to kill her. He looks a mess now, soot matting his hair and clothes, with a network of burns and shrapnel wounds covering the hand that make it look more like some sort of squid than a part of the human body. The skin is pale blue and cracked, each piece of skin covered in a series of bone white burns and deep yellow phlegm, which surrounds each cut. A couple of fingernails hang off in odd directions, threatening to fall off at any moment. Drops of blood trickle from some of the cuts, splashing into the water and leaving an all too obvious trail as the boy grows paler and paler. Kate looks away as she helps him through the dank passageway at a shambling run, feeling slightly queasy at the sight. As they turn the corner, out of breath and coughing for oxygen, the sounds of clashing weaponry draws distant, and it becomes obvious that the girl who spotted them outside the cave system is no longer pursuing them. Squatting down against the wall, Kate pulls off the pack she had been carrying and flicks open its clips. Pulling out a roll of bandages, she points to the ground, waiting for Jakob to sit. He does so, though not before testing the water with the fingers of his working hand and raising a bit to his lips and tasting it.

"I think not." He groans, woozily attempting to imitate one of his teachers as he stumbles ack against the wall, making sure not to topple forwards into the water. Kate rolls her eyes, gripping his wrist and trying to pull the boy down with her. He stumbles, but doesn't relent, instead staying on his feet and leaning harder against the wall to stop him from tumbling forwards into the crystal clear water. "No seriously, I wouldn't sit in that water if it's the last thing I ever do."

"Why?" Kate sighs, looking slightly bored as she looks up at the boy.

"Because it would be the last thing I ever did. Cretavorus Prodoxide." He says, indicating the water. "A plant known to be an air purifier, with an extremely poisonous sap. It can kill in seconds if you swallow enough and was invented by Capitolites a few years ago as the ultimate murder weapon. Scentless, see through, acts just like water and tastes kind of like strawberries stuffed with sugar and dipped in beer." He smacks his lips as the taller girl leaps to her feet, pulling the small cut on her thigh out of the 'water' and standing to her feet, "Delicious." Jakob grins, trying to force down tears and bile as the bloody stump of a hand brushes lightly against the hard rock wall. Kate stands alert as the boy gasps in pain, grabbing the roll of bandages that she had not tried to disinfect in the water and gripping hold of the boy's wrist again. Jakob groans and squirms as cold bandage is applied to ripped and burnt flesh, soaking in blood almost as soon as they touch the wounds. Kate doesn't let him relax however, pulling the bandage tighter and tighter around the red, yellow and white bulge on the end of the boy's arm, until almost all circulation is cut off from the hand. Loss of blood flow wasn't going to hurt, it would need to be amputated anyway, and the less blood that bled from there, the more he'd have to survive on. Against her nature of shying away from wounds, let alone one's so disgusting, Kate keeps tightening and winding until all the bandage has been used, and all that is left is a shapeless bulge about the twice the size of the boy's hand, attached to the end of the stump, "Now from what I've seen, a plant of Cretavorus Prodoxide can hold up to two hundred leaves, each of which holds just about five milliliters of sap. I'd guess there's, what, ten thousand full plants used for these streams. Must have been trying to get rid of the species." Jakob muses as he splashes up the water a bit more, grinning like a loon at Kate. The girl frowns, raising an eyebrow at the boy as he continues his lecture about the plant. Something he had said didn't add up. Something about the plant... and a piece of paper. Rummaging around in the sack, Kate fishes out a slip of paper labeled, 'Creta'. 'Creta' stood for Cretaceous period, he'd told her. But what if it didn't? What if it stood for Cretavor... whatever. What if he'd known? No, he must have known. How else would he know to check the water if he hadn't known? How would he know what he was looking for? Seriously, no one could be that prepared if they didn't know what they were looking for.

"Maybe I'm just being paranoid," She begins, "But, did you know about these plants being here before you came?"

"Yes." The boy smiles, raising an eyebrow. There's no emotion in his voice, as though he had been expecting this question for a long time and knew exactly how to answer it. Kate stares questioningly into his eyes unable to comprehend what he has just said.

"You knew?"

"Yeah, I found a bunch of the plants in the jungle in the first day, it figured the Games Makers had some sort of trap set up around them."

"But, I thought we were allies! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Oh we're allies, but that doesn't mean I can trust you. No matter how hard we put off the issue, you've still got to die at some point so I can do my job. Keeping all the information from you seemed like the best way to do it." Kate snarls, grabbing the palling boy and throwing him into the 'water' in her rage, before she can even fully register what has just been said. The sneak had been trying to trick her. Well, she wasn't as surprised as she thought she might be, since he had already betrayed three much stronger opponents, maybe killing her was just an extra step to winning. It is only as she reaches for her knife that she realises what had been said before that. A cannon fires in the distance and, for a brief millisecond, Kate thinks that Jakob is dead, but then the boy breaks above the 'water' again, spluttering as he comes to the surface

"Wait." She stops, looking down at Jakob as he crawls to his feet and leans back against the wall. "What do you mean your job?" Jakob jumps, spluttering up an odd, and slightly foreboding, mixture of blood and phlegm in his surprise.

"Nothing." He gasps hastily, his face reddening and his grip on his tape recorder loosening slightly as he mentally kicks himself for making his first mistake. A fatal one as well, he assumes, considering the fact that Kate currently has all the weapons and supplies, and has just dunked him into a highly toxic paddling pool. Jakob opens his mouth, but rather than words, another spew of foam and blood spurts out, and he doubles over, clutching his aching stomach. Kate glares at him, expecting a trick, but when Jakob turns to her there is a smile stretched across his sickly face.

"Thank you, Miss Ryal." The boy says, his voice wavering slightly as soft coughs break there way through his lips. Kate's grimace deepens, unsure of what to say. Only a few days ago she would have been pleased to here those two words, would have answered with a 'your welcome' and gone about her way thinking nothing of it, but here, the words felt so odd and out of place that she can't help but wonder why he would possibly say it.

"Why?" She asks, "What could you possibly have to thank me for?"

"For killing me." Jakob smiles genuinely, "Oh and all the help with my plans, couldn't have done it without you!" He winks, and Kate raises an eyebrow. Jakob snorts gleefully at her, the sound muffled slightly by a hacking cough that comes out as he tries to speak again. "You probably think I'm crazy now, right? Are my motivations really all that confusing?" Kate nods slowly, still holding the small knife firmly in her hand, and Jakob tries to laugh again. "Yeah, I get that a lot." He sighs, "Seems people just don't understand the motives of the Capitol Liberation Front."

"Capitol Liberation Front!" Kate shouts, jumping up against the wall in exasperation as she recognises the name of the group. The Capitol Liberation Front had, for the past twenty five years, been the most infamous, and pretty much the only, Anti-Hunger Games group in Districts One, Two, Three and Four. Practically everyone in all of District Three was behind them, but only a few people were ever allowed into them. "You're one of them?"

"Of course." Jakob wheezes, like it is obvious that he would be working for an anti-government group, "Why else do you think I would have everything so well set up? I mean, seriously? You thought I bought a tape recorder in with me just because?" The boys stops, hacking and coughing as he stumbles and falls into the 'water'. Kate groans, grabbing the back of his thick coat and pulling him back up to his feet. This time, however, the boy cannot stand, slipping down the wall into a kneeling position, eyes becoming hazy. A hand reaches out, pulling the nearby rucksack over to him and fumbling about in the bottom, he pulls out a small silver box, the case to the blow tube and darts and flicks it open. "You have... no idea... how many people we had to bribe to get this..." He gasps, pressing a symbol on the top of the box, and grinning widely as the top of the lid rolls back. A second panel slips out, and another silver box, disguised to look like the base of the lid, falls out an clatters to the ground. Opening this, Jakob pulls out an old, seemingly broken cassette and clicks it together, slipping it into the tape recorder, and gasping in pain as he tries to push the lid closed with his injured hand.

"What is it?" Kate asks, kneeling down and raising his head to look at her. She stares into his eyes and, for the first time, there is no feisty twinkle in it. No sense of abandon or trickery. When he speaks next, he speaks in a heavy accent but, despite how ridiculous he sounds, somehow Kate can tell this is his real voice. She doesn't know how, it just kind of seems that way.

"I was planning... to volunteer when I was eighteen you know?" Jakob smiles, his voice slightly lilting and quieter than usual, "I guess I knew this was coming, but I would have liked a few more years. I was going to win the Ninety Eighth Hunger Games and play this cassette at my victory tour. It was really going to incite rebellion! That little tape. It took me years to put together." Kate reaches down, taking the recorder from him and smiling.

"I'll play it," She smiles, "I'll win for you." Jakob looks up at her and frowns, prising the recorder from her hands and taking it in his own.

"Please don't." He says, his voice now barely a gurgle in between violent coughs, "I think it works better this way. An ally killing an ally? It sums up the Hunger Games nicely." Kate nods, only now noticing how confusing it is that she is crying. She'd only known Jakob a couple of days and, besides, he'd betrayed her! Why is she suddenly getting so choked up about this. "I don't need someone to win for me, Kate." Jakon smiles, leaning his head back and pressing the play button on the tape recorder, "But thank you though." He looks up, past her, to where he thinks a camera might be hidden, and begins to speak, "Happy Hunger Games, Mr Templesmith..." The boy chuckles, his body convulsing as he gasps out a last gasp. Kate reaches out to him as the boy plummets sideways, the loss of blood and the poison finally working to kill him and, a for a couple of seconds, it feels like the world is about to explode.

And then it really does.

The whole tunnel fills with wails and screams as the cassette begins to play, their voices distorted, as though some one had recorded the sound, and each one followed by a cannon. It's only then, as the first couple of cannons go off, when she finally recognises who these people are. The tributes. Every tribute who hadn't won, and even some who had, there last moments recorded, preserved for the Capitol to here again, back to back. Kate, turns and flees down the hallway, away from the sounds of cannons, away from the ear rending howls. Her eyes burn as tears pour down her face, tumbling over her cheeks and into her mouth as she begins to recognise the voices of more and more tributes. The children she had heard growing up. Two thousand voices raised up in anguish. Each new scream brings back knew memories of children, sometimes even younger than herself, wading through stinking bogs and traversing mazes made of thorns and wearing their fingers to the bone as they try, desperately, to pull themselves out of an erupting volcano. Why had he bought them back? Why? Why? Kate gasps as the voices fade into the distance, her heart throbbing, her sides splitting as phlegm forces its way up her throat. Why had Jakob ever thought it would be a good idea, for anyone, to bring those sort of memories back to the people of the Districts. The people who were always forced to watch. She grits her teeth, shaking off the tiny sounds as, further away, she hears Jakob's own cannon fire.

Well, that's one down, Kate supposes as she forces herself to a stop, her stomach churning violently inside her, and crouches to the ground. It is a shame really, she had hoped that the pair of them wouldn't have to kill each other or, at least, that he would be angry at her for momentarily forgetting that the water was deadly. She had hoped he would be mad, attack her and try to kill her himself, but he hadn't. That had been the hardest part of watching him die, the fact that he wasn't upset. Kate buries her head in her hands for what feels like a century, thoughts colliding in her mind and, when she raises it again, there is a steely glare of determination stretched across her face.

It didn't change anything, really, Jakob's death. She was still going to win and she was going to do it for his sake.

Whether he wanted her to or not!

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Tortured and Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Tortured by Verain, Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Tortured and Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

District 2 OUT :(

11: ?

10: Jakob Hart (D3)- Killed by Kate, poisoned

Left: 9 tributes

* * *

Arcticmist: 10

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 70

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 75

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 150

Narcissa Weasly: 75

HelloPoppet123: 80

MySoulToReap: 30

Beware of the Nargles: 110

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 40

wildone97: 140

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 50

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft (Kills 1): Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Jakob Hart (Kills 0): Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal (Kills 0): Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz (Kills 0): Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Pyro Vernon (Kills 0): Improvised club, makeshift poncho and boots, extra ethanol, lighter (empty)

Kayton Roys (Kills 0): Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel (Kills 0): Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov (Kills 1): Longbow and 9 arrows, lamp, thick coat and boots

Alylla Stone (Kills 2): Large axe, large knife, a pair of claws, large pack (food for 1 more meal), thick coat and boots, slingshot, Capitol medicine (bone repairer)

Trent Flee (Kills 0): Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Lenox Carter (Kills 0): 5 fever pills, makeshift poncho, rope, sword

RESERVE: Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie) Capitol medicine (cut sealant) (Arcticmist)

* * *

Next Week: District Nine.


	34. Day 3: The Grudge

Claudius' Note: _'Well, folks, it's the moment we've all been waiting for! The epic fight between Alylla Stone and Zus Ryaov of District Nine! Tonight, a rivalry set from day one will finally come to a head and one will die! There is no turning back, no second chances and no chance to save the victim from their fate with gifts! Prepare for the fight of the minute!_

**Tonight on...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

Zus and Alylla stand on either side of a small hill of snow, separated by mere feet. They circle each other, wary of attack, as if the other might try to kill them if they move too quickly. Slowly, ever so slowly, they reach for their weapons. Alylla slipping her long butcher's knife onto her belt and reaching for her axe. Zus growls, his hand tightening around his bow as he slips an arrow onto it, pulling back his bow and intaking breath sharply as he aims the arrow at the girl. A smile grows on Alylla's face as her hand reaches the handle of the ace, brushing it with the tips of her fingers. Her breath comes out in short, sharp blasts, as though trying to clear space for the extra adrenaline she will need. Zus' eyes narrow as he glares at her, his dark eyes boring into hers. His breath rises out of his own mouth as a small trickle of steam against the cold. Her hand curls around the axe, gripping it tightly as she stares back at the steely faced boy opposite her. They circle each other, eyes locked, looking the other up and down, waiting for an opening. Zus grimaces, the pressure finally getting to him he lets an arrow fly. It whizzes through the cold air, smashing through falling snow as it screams towards Alylla, who ducks and rolls to the side as the boy prepares another arrow.

"Finally." Alylla whispers as she draws the giant axe from off her back, a vicious glint in her eye as she slowly advances on Zus. The boy grits his teeth as he releases his right hand from the bowstring, letting fly another arrow. Barely dodging the attack, Alylla winces as the arrow flies past, ripping a layer of skin off of her face. Blood trickles down into her mouth and she spits, breaking out into a run. Zus pales, reaching for a machete on his belt and swinging it at Alylla's face. The girl roars a battle cry as she leaps into action, swinging her large axe at Zus with such force that it flies out of her hands, crashing handle first into Zus' stomach and knocking the wind out of him, before burying itself deep in the snow. Alylla grins, leaping to retrieve the axe even as Zus pulls himself to his feet and swinging it in an arc at Zus' head with such force that it buries itself into the earth below the snow and stays there, stuck. Furious, the girl reaches for the savage blade on her belt, ripping it out of its loop so quickly that the leather strap is chopped clean in half. Zus' eyes widen as he sees the glinting knife fly towards his belly and he jumps back, skidding on the snow and nearly tripping backwards, but managing to regain his footing at the last second. He growls darkly, firing another arrow in Alylla's general direction. It goes wide, flying high over Alylla's head and slamming into the snowy mountain behind, and Zus swears loudly. Alylla's mood dampens slightly as the boy roars out profanities and her fingers tighten around the blade.

_'Is he really taking this seriously?'_ Claudius asks from the wings, as though reading Alylla's mind, _'Cos if I were about to be butchered by Miss Alylla Stone, the only tribute in this Games to have killed two people (I know folks, the Arena's doing most of the work this year), I'd do a bit more than swear at her if I missed. I'd fire again!'_

Alylla roars, raising her arms and leaping on the boy like an enraged bear, toppling the pair off the hill and sending them rolling to the bottom. Alylla roars at Zus, punching and kicking him again and again as they tumble down the sharp slope together, small stones and shards of ice bouncing up around them, cutting their skin and ripping tiny gashes in their clothing. Zus grits his teeth as, with a shockingly powerful punch, Alylla slams her fist straight into the bridge of his nose. There is an ominous cracking sound and Zus howls in pain, blood blossoming from his nose. Alyyla pulls her fist back again and then jams her elbow into Zus' stomach, cutting off his gasp of pain as her other hand crashes into his chin. Zus' teeth rattle in his head and for a second his entire vision goes red as the pain registers in his head. He fumbles at his belt even as Alylla pulls her fist back again and, in an instant, his hand holds a large knife, thinner and more curved than Alylla's, which is pressed against Alylla's throat. The girl growls, pressing her own butchers knife against Zus' and pushing back. The boy is stronger than she had thought, having spent the last seventeen years of his life shooting animals in District Nine with one of the hardest weapons to operate ever invented, and as the knives press together it seems obvious to Alylla that this battle of strength will not be finishing any time soon. She is proven utterly wrong when Zus' own fist flies out of nowhere and into her gut, throwing her backwards and allowing Zus to roll out from under her. Snarling, Zus grips his knife like some sort of holy symbol, slashing it at Alylla, who dodges out the way and returns the favour with a quick jab at Zus. Zus weaves out the way and thrusts upwards, whilst Alylla brings her knife arcing down. Once again both tributes miss and begin to circle each other, throwing ineffective, glancing hits at one another. This continues for another five minutes, after which time the entire audience at home in Panem is throughly bored, and Claudius hits the fast forward button so that he can give a quick safety warning to the children at home.

_'Remember kids, a knife isn't exactly the best weapon to use for a fight! So put those switch blades away and go buy a proper weapon like a gun or a battleaxe or something!"_

As the two grow tired, Alylla gains the upper hand, slashing a jagged scar into the side of Zus' face and kicking him backwards into a mound of snow. Forgetting about the battleaxe wedged into the ground at the top of the slope, Alylla spins the dagger in her hand, stepping over to Zus. The boy bares his teeth, bringing his foot up into her jaw and sending her stumbling back as he backflips on to his feet. It is then, reeling backwards in pain, that Alylla sees something silver, a streak in the snow filled sky, slowly drifting to the ground. Spinning to the side, she dodges out the way of Zus' knife and, leaping into the air, grabs the silver parachute before it even hits the ground. Alylla grimaces as she rips open the large box, staring down at the pair of bronzed metal gloves, their knuckles spiked and blunted, like knuckledusters, that lie inside them. The pain in her broken hand suddenly rushes back and, with a roar of rage she slips on one claw, lifts the other using the first and flings it as hard as she can at her opponent's head. Zus screams a profanity as the claw slams into his cheek, gouging away some of the skin before twirling into the snow and out of sight. Anger boils up inside Zus and, with a furious cry he leaps, gripping his discarded bow from the ground and swinging it onto his back before throwing himself at Alylla, veins popping on his neck. Alylla winces as the large knife rips through the bandages around her injured hand and sends dark red blood spraying onto the crisp white snow below her. She growls, punching back with the heavy metal gauntlet and ripping yet more skin off of the dark skinned boy's face and sending more blood flying into the, now fairly blood covered, snow. Retaliating with a knife to the belly, Zus grits his teeth and kicks Alylla's feet from under her. She stumbles back, her gloved hand clawing at his neck and wrenching him to the ground along with her, so that the knife is not ripped up through her chest and out of her head, completely dissecting her. She kicks Zus' in the crotch, simultaneously bringing her fist round into his face and ripping the side of his coat to pieces, leaving Zus himself relatively unharmed. Zus, winded, loosens his grip on the knife and it is twisted out of his hands by Alylla, who breaks off the hilt, leaving the metal sticking into her stomach to stop the wound from bleeding too profusely. Zus screams out in pain as he is pinned to the ground by Alylla and her own knife is stabbed into his side. Alylla grins widely even as Zus' fist slams into the side of her face, sending her tumbling back, her knife still clasped in her hands. Gripping at the nearest item on his belt, Zus wrenches something off and swings it at Alylla's head. He sees her eyes widen and, before he can register what his happening, the metal thing explodes, showering both tributes with glass. Zus covers his face with his coat and, in an instant, a cannon fires out across the Arena.

Zus looks down at the bloodstained gas lamp clasped in his hand, its metal frame bent and its glass screen shattered against the large girl's skull. He winces, unable to even look at the girl's butchered head and her savage grin. Unclipping a roll of bandages from his belt and slowly wrapping them around his heavily bleeding abdomen, he turns away, heading towards the cave. His head hangs and his eyes droop in his empty victory. For a moment he hangs at the entrance of the cave, unsure whether to enter the vast complex, but the warmth drags him inside regardless. The fight was exhausting. All he wants to do is sleep.

Zus Ryaov's District partner is dead and by his own hand at that.

"But I had to do it... She was a psycho."

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Tortured and Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Tortured by Verain, Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Tortured and Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

District 2 OUT :(

11: Alylla Stone (D9)- Killed by Zus, skull smashed

10: Jakob Hart (D3)- Killed by Kate, poisoned

Left: 9 tributes 5 male, 4 female

* * *

Arcticmist: 10

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 70

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 95

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 160

Narcissa Weasly: 85

HelloPoppet123: 50

MySoulToReap: 40

Beware of the Nargles: 120

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 40

wildone97: 150

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 60 (You seem upset)

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

sunshine123: 20

The Other Packman: 20

* * *

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft (Kills 1): Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Jakob Hart (Kills 0): Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal (Kills 0): Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz (Kills 0): Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Pyro Vernon (Kills 0): Improvised club, makeshift poncho and boots, extra ethanol, lighter (empty)

Kayton Roys (Kills 0): Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals)

Georia Hanel (Kills 0): Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov (Kills 2): Longbow and 6 arrows, lamp, thick coat and boots

Trent Flee (Kills 0): Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Lenox Carter (Kills 0): 5 fever pills, makeshift poncho, rope, sword

RESERVE: Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie) Capitol medicine (cut sealant) (Arcticmist)

* * *

Next Week:

Number Nine


	35. Day 3: Bomfire

A/N: I am so sorry for the wait, A levels are starting and, as the new editor of my school paper, I'm finding it harder and harder to find any time to write! Ah well,on to the chapter. It's probably one of my shorter, but I'm hopping to whittle it down to the final eight today, and then things should, finally, get really interesting. Thanks very much to That Annoying Person (Yes that's their real name) who got me to update again!

* * *

**Tonight on...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 3**

They had told him not to go. They had begged him, pleaded with him not to climb up onto that stage, not to walk away from his responsibilities, his family, his life. It was pathetic really, how they had cried, how they had struggled and fought with the Peacekeepers just to have the chance to see their brother for one more moment, before they were tossed out onto the streets once more. They hadn't believed he could do it. They'd spent so long telling themselves the same lies they told to passersby as they conned them out of their money that they'd actually began to believe them themselves. They'd pulled the wool over their own eyes. They thought he couldn't cope. They thought their precious brother was sick, dying even, but that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that they thought he was weak!

Blake cringes as he remembers his older sister's tear streaked face, his younger brother, bottom lip trembling, eyes filling up as they told him empty lies about other tributes taking pity on him and the pathetic notion of a Careers alliance. That was why he'd broken it up, led first Essence, then Jules, then Demis away from the rest of the group and then quietly bought about there end. The first two hadn't been that impressive, he'd just chased them away and let nature take its course, and the last one had very nearly been the end of him. He'd let that stupid District Three boy get the better of him and had very nearly payed for it with his life. He'd got cocky, it wouldn't help to do that again. He sighs, pulling his thick coat around him as he heads towards the caves. His common sense tells him its a trap, a glowing cave radiating warmth in a chilled wasteland filled to the brim with monsters, but it also tells him that that's where most of the other tributes will have gone and so it's where he should go if he's looking to kill anyone anytime soon.

Blake scurries to the entrance, making sure to avoid making too much noise. From the bestial roars and whoops coming from nearby, it's pretty clear that those Mutt Victor things are still active, and Blake has no plans to run into any of them until the congratulatory party held after he wins.

The cave is light but dank, with dribbles of water running down the walls, there's a large soft patch, about a meter in diameter, on the ground near his foot, designed to look like the rocks that surround it, but obvious in the way his feet rest on it. He bends down and touches it. Soft, slightly spongy, but somehow heavy as hell, seemingly impossible to lift. It's presumably some sort of remote controlled drainage mechanism, designed to give way at the push of a button so that excess water can be removed. That or a body. He chuckles softly, useful, if need be he could probably break through it with a knife and use it as an escape root, just like the bodies did. Unfortunately for the other tributes, Blake has no intention of going anywhere. Just as well, the Gamesmakers would almost certainly kill him if he tried anything. He gets up and, pricking up his ears, hears the faint sound of footsteps further down the corridor. He smiles, his eyes taking on a maniacal hunger that he hadn't shown since he'd spoken to Jules, two nights ago, as he begins to edge down the corridor, back to the wall. His boots muffle the sound of his steps and the coat silences any scrapping noises that his sheathed sword might make against the wall. He calms his breathing, forcing down the adrenaline even as it rushes to the surface, trying to work out which tribute is moving towards him. They're big, but light on their feet, and by the sounds of their footfalls they're running. Zus or Irre, possibly the 'Pyro' boy from Seven. He smiles and gives a brief nod, as though recognising them as a potential threat, and casually draws his sword, tossing his knife into the other hand. A look of concentration plays upon his face, before being replaced by a casual grin, and he readjusts his stance as the figure bursts round the corner.

Blake jumps back as an arc of lightening hits the ground in front of him, traveling through the water and hitting him with enough force to cause him to cry out and fall backwards. The shock isn't lethal, but it's certainly debilitating. The boy stumbles back against the wall, clinging at a rock as the bestial form of the Victor takes a step towards him, a number twelve clearly etched on its chest, an axe clasped in its hands, sparking with energy. Its leering face, a butchered caricature of Haymitch Abernathy, stares down at him, its dark eyes ringed, its face drawn. Blake spins out the way of an axe blow, but takes the full brunt of the next energy blast, as it travels through the water, scoops him up and tosses him against the far wall like a rag doll, giving him just enough time to touch the water again before letting out another burst, which sails into him with the force of a speeding locomotive, tossing him into the ceiling and sending him crashing back into the ground. The sword skids out of one hand, the dagger out of the other as he lands, bloody and bruised, on the rocky deck. The beast chuckles and, having seemingly run out of energy, charges towards him. Blake groans, aching all over as he rolls out the way of the axe blow. Slowly and painfully, he lifts himself onto his hands and knees and leaps, gripping his sword off the ground and turning his body to face the wall. The beast lashes out again, cutting at Blake's shoulder as he hits the wall hard and slides down. The beast roars its axe following him, digging deeper and deeper into the wall until it is unable to move it, but Blake is too fast for it, quickly slipping in between the creature's legs and stabbing upwards. The Mutt grunts slightly as the sword retracts, the spurting black blood immediately thinning to a trickle as the wound heals. Furious, Blake rises to his feet, slashing up the beast's back as he rises before bringing his blade arching down onto the beast's head. The skull doesn't so much as chip as the blade sinks into the skin, stopping abruptly as it collides with the bone.

Blake gasps, staggering backwards as the creature gives up on its axe and turns, a tiny row of daggers pushing out of its knuckles even as it does so. Blake grimaces, lifting his dagger and hurling it straight into the creatures eye, but the beast hardly notices, its own blood filling the socket even as it moves forwards. It lashes out, and Blake flattens himself into the wall, evading the first hit, before ducking out the way of the second. Again and again and again he dodges the creatures thrashing limbs, until he is close enough to feel its warm breath against his chest. It bites at him, scarring his face as its rough teeth graze across it but he reaches his goal. Using his sword to knock away the hardened blood, the colour of peat, he grips the handle of his dagger, wrenching it from the creatures eye socket. The creature roars as Blake leaps away from its groping hands. Its fists rip and tear his coat, cutting his arm as the beast lumbers towards him, and Blake's face twists in anger. He growls, reaching into his back and retrieving a chicken bone, letting it fly straight into the creatures remaining eye and watching as the wound is healed by its own blood.

It takes the creature a moment to realise it is blind, but when it does it isn't best pleased about it. It thrashes wildly, following the sound of Blake's breathing even as he turns and runs away from it, back to the entrance where he came from. Blake snarls, trying to mask the sound of his breathing, but the beasts nose still sniffs him out as it crashes through the passageway behind him. Pushing himself into the crack of a wall, Blake reaches for his boot, lifting it and flinging it as far as he can. The beast sniffs it out, its tiny brain unable to distinguish whether the boot or the wall is the true Blake for the moment. It feels the wall, its ears listening out for Blake, and that's when the boy strikes. Leaping from the crack, Blake lashes out with both sword and dagger at once, lopping off the creatures ears before rushing away from it. He stumbles on the ground as the creature, now both blind and mostly deaf, gives chase, bellowing at the top of its voice.

"_I'm starting to think this kid isn't very nice!"_ Claudius sighs, _"Poor old Haymitch."_

The bestial Haymitch roars, its energy attack finally returning as it steps closer to Blake. The boy stumbles and trips, his reserves of adrenaline wearing dangerously low as he draws close to salvation and it is at that moment that the beast fires. Blake cries out as the blast catches him, wrenching both sword and dagger from his hands and throwing him into the wall, the beast smiles, sending another one into the water as Blake lands and continues to crawl. Its body adapts even as it fires to its new found blindness, sprouting rows of sensors to tell it where the boy is, and it fires again. Blake gasps, feeling himself begin to loose consciousness as he reaches for salvation. The entrance draws astoundingly close and he reaches out, stretching to be near his goal. The beast sends off a final shock and Blake screams, his body tossed into the air and landing hard. The shock contacts with the soft area of ground near the entrance, and the cave falls silent suddenly as a soft clicking sounds. For a moment nothing happens but then, without warning, the soft patch rolls away, its locks tripped by the electrical shock. The beast, neither able to see nor hear what is happening is totally unprepared for the water that rises to its ankles to be sucked out from under it, tripping it and sending the beast scrapping across the floor, arms dragging against the ground, roaring in fury. The roof opens up, beginning to spray water down at the beast, dragging it closer and closer to the removal chamber, a coffin sized area designed to house those who died in the caves for transporting home. Blake gasps, using his last reserves of energy to push his way out of the watery torrent. The chamber can't possibly hold the beast and, as soon as the water stops draining it is bound to be out for revenge. Just like he is, really.

But that doesn't matter right now, Blake thinks as he bursts out of the torrents of water, dropping to his knees as all the pain and injury comes back to him. His arm collapses under his own weight and he falls forwards his eyes fluttering. He's tired, unarmed and horribly injured, but he's alive.

And he's won.

* * *

"What the hell?" Lenox mutters, staring at the silver chest lying on the floor of the cave infront of them.

"Dunno," The hulking brute replies, "present maybe?"

"Yeah, because they're really gonna give us a present aren't they?"

"Maybe." Pyro shrugs, stepping forwards to open the box. Lenox jumps in surprise,grabbing his shoulder and stopping him in his tracks.

"Wait! What if it's a trap?" She growls, inspecting the box suspiciously.

"Yeah, and what if it's not?" Pyro snarls, shrugging her off and reaching for the box. With a little squeak, Lenox scurries around him, pushing his massive hand away from the box as she does so. "Look, Drowny Girl..."

"Lenox!"

"...Sure. I don't know if it's a trap or if it ain't, but I ain't gonna find out if it ain't if I you don't stop not wanting me to open the box and let me see whether or not it ain't a trap!" Lenox stares at him, mouth agape, and the boy takes this opportunity to push past her and rip open the box, covering his eyes as a blinding light shines out of the box and a loud, rather obnoxious leitmotif plays, causing Lenox to jump backwards. When the light clears, Pyro uncovers his eyes, reaching into the box and feeling around in the bottom. His hand brushes something and tightens around a piece of rope, pulling it from the box. Lenox steps closer, scrutinising the object he holds in his hand. It looks somewhat like a rope, a deep red colour and studded with copper balls. The top splits into three separate sections, each ending with a vicious copper hook and the bottom is woven into a ribbed grip, devoid of brass and cut off from the rest of the weapon by a hand guard made of black metal in a similar style to a rapier's guard.

"It's a whip." Lenox mutters and the boy nods rigorously. He smiles, running a finger along the hook and chuckling rather giddily as a drop of blood fizzes on the end, before tumbling into the water. Grasping the weapon by its rigid handle, Pyro flicks it gently and jumps as the brass balls clash together, making and odd clanging, scraping noise. He spins the whip around his head, listening as the balls grind against one another like gears, before pulling the whip down in the opposite direction, cracking it. As the whip falls the balls are ripped apart, only to smash back together with an epic clang. Lenox jumps backwards as small sparks jump from the end and Pyro winces as one touches his wrist, memories of a certain fire flooding back into his addled brain.

A certain fire many years ago, horrifying images cloud his mind for a second.

The pain comes back, surging into him like a knife.

The screams of his sister fill his ears.

His eyes begin to cloud over as his mind shuts itself down, replaced by a vacant obsession.

An obsession with fire.

An obsession with death.

He recoils, dropping the whip and it splashes into the water, putting itself out even as it touches the ground. Lenox rushes to it, scooping it up and testing it in her hand. It fits her grip perfectly and certainly seems a damn side better than that old piece of rope she has been using so far, which is beginning to give her rope burn. Slotting the rope back into her belt, thankful that it no longer feels like her trousers are about to fall down, the girl instead fingers the rope in her hands, weighing it in each before spinning it round her head and cracking it into the ceiling. Pyro backs away as the sparks fall, his face dark, and Lenox giggles, cracking it again and watching the boy twitch slightly.

"Oh come on!" She complains, "You're Ash Vernon! That kid who was setting the Arena on fire the last two days! Bloody fire! You can't tell me you've gone soft now, just because of a little whip!" She cracks it again and the boy sinks into the wall, or at least tries to. It's not an easy feet to accomplish when you're well over six feet and in danger of butting your head on the ceiling as it is. "Come on!" She cracks the whip again. Then again and again and again, until the air is filled with sparks. None of them so much as touch Pyro and Lenox is, by now, pretty sure the weapon is harmless, to the two of them at least, but Pyro's face still shows signs of apprehension. If she had known him that well it would have been obvious why. Pyro had always been rather unstable, even before the fire that killed his sister and discoloured his skin with scars and burnt flesh, almost killing him in the process and once he set his, almost negligible, mind to something, it was almost impossible to change it.

"Good God, Ash!" Lenox groans, spinning the whip round her head, her voice full of impatience "Get the hell out of that wall! We're going!" He doesn't move. "Look, I've proved it's safe... for us... so get out of that damn wall! Come on! I need you to carry the supplies!" The giant shakes his head, pouting like an infant and Lenox sighs. She'll just have to scare him out of it. She smiles, pulling the whip in the opposite direction from the way it was being spun, like she has done so many times before. This time, however, she cracks it down, not up, and the boy leaps out of the way as sparks fly near him. Lenox giggles as she sees his stunned face staring gormlessly at her, glad that the whip doesn't seem do have done him any real harm.

"See, I told you it was saf..." The whip hits the water, sparks flying into its midst. For the moment there is stillness, then the water bulges red, flames forcing their way to the surface and leaping their way across the back wall, consuming the area where Pyro had just been standing.

_'Yeah. Remember what Jakob said earlier about this stuff not being water.'_ Claudius chirps to the audience_ 'I've got two words for you. Highly and flammable!'_

The fire spreads as the two figures back away, Lenox turning and running as the fires spreads out towards the two. She turns her head, expecting to see Pyro running next to her, or possibly behind her by a few meters. He isn't. She skids to a halt, spinning on her heels and staring behind her at the boy, who stands facing the fire, slowly backing away from it with a mix between fear and wonder etched on his face. His skin has turned as white as a sheet, patched with grey scarring and covered in goosebumps and he's shivering, but it's impossible to tell whether it's from fear or excitement.

"Ash! Ash! Come on!" Lenox screams, stepping to get closer to him, but backing away when she realises how massive he is, and that she won't be able to move him, even if she does get close.

"Nah, lemme stay!" The boy whoops, "Ain't gonna hurt no one, just want to watch the pretty lights a little longer!"

"It's bloody fire! It's not pretty, It's deadly!" Lenox roars, "Just how thick are you!" Pyro turns to her, furious and tosses something. It spins through the air, head over tail and bashes into her chest, falling into the water and staring up at her, glinting like gold in the fire. A lighter.

"Won't be needing that anymore!" Pyro grunts, "Got all the lights I want right here!" Lenox swears, scooping up the lighter and glaring at Pyro. She swears at him, demanding he come with her, away from the fire, to safety. "Don't want safety!" The man replies, "Gonna see my sis again, right! Get away from all those stupid gits in the District!"

"How can you want this! You're a human being!"

"I'm a beacon, a great big candle just waitin' for my destiny. I ain't some Ash who's had his day, I'm a firework just waiting for someone to light the fuse!"

"You're being insane, Ash!"

"Not insane Lenox..." The huge boy smiles, almost warmly despite the mad glint in his eye, "... Pyro..."

The fire gives a roar and explodes outwards, covering the boy in an incandescent wall of flame. The boy doesn't scream, he doesn't flinch or struggle, he doesn't even blink. It all happens so fast and, to be honest, it doesn't feel as painful as Pyro thought it would. It's all over too quick. Disappointing, but not the end of the world. He could live with it being quick.

Lenox covers her face, ducking and diving through the caves as the fire follows her, singing her hair, stinging her eyes red and making her skin raw. She tumbles out into the open, gasping for breath in the smoke, and almost immediately becomes aware of the stillness outside. No sound breaks through the sky, save for the pitter patter of snow falling on ground, the crackling and hissing of the fire behind her as the snow puts it out and the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She's mildly aware of a smell in the air, something like roses and honey, and of the fact that the so called 'Muttmoth' is lying asleep next to the cave entrance, when an overwhelming tiredness overwhelms her and she stumbles back into the cave entrance where, thanks to what appears to be a steady trickle of water coming from the roof of the cave, the fire appears to be receding. It crosses her mind for a second that she should have left Pyro, it was the clever thing to do. Made it less likely that he was going to betray her somewhere down the line, got her to the final eight even.

Ah well. Maybe she was a nicer person than she gave herself credit for.

* * *

Sixteen cannons. Sixteen cannons. Sixteen cannons.

The boy whistles softly to himself as he makes his way through the cave complex. It's something old, something nice. His box used to play it, before he gave it to that girl for some reason, he couldn't tell why. 'Someone something is somethining stuff' he thought it was called. He remembered a line about claws, reminded him of his boss, whatsisname. He vaguely wonders if the guy is still alive.

His single eye flits from wall to wall, constantly searching for traps. You could never be to careful, especially not after what that stupid girl did to him on the first day. Losing both eyes would really inconvenience him. Sure, it wouldn't stop him, but being blind wasn't exactly in his plans for the future.

A wave of euphoria passes over him as he realises what sixteen cannons mean and he begins to chant.

"Final eight. Final eight. Final eight. Final eight! Final eight! Final eight! Final eight! FINAL EIGHT!"

* * *

The boy gasps, leaning against the wall for support. So he's got this far has he? Well, it's a nice surprise at least, but he knows not to expect any favours, especially after that last kill. He's badly wounded and he may well be concussed, but that's not what worries him. What worries him was that last kill and the Career hunting monster he's become. He hopes they aren't watching, but he knows that's a desperate, false hope. His brothers are watching. They probably hate him now, but they don't understand. He is only trying to get back to them, to his brothers and mother. He wants to hold them in his arms and protect them, to never let them go, to start anew and make sure they know that he's always there for them, and that no one, Capitol or not, is going to rip them apart ever again!

It's a desperate hope, and he knows many people have wanted it before, but he's sure none of them have wanted it as badly as him. His hand curls round the polished black rock in his pocket and, as his senses cloud, he falls into a deep, uneasy sleep.

* * *

She still didn't know why he'd done it. Why he'd thought it necessary to gamble away his life for some kids who would never know him, never care for him, never be able to thank him. She couldn't tell why he didn't want her to win either. She had known him, she had cared for him and, right now, she felt wracked with guilt. Because she'd also killed him.

And that was why she needed to win. Not for her, she'd been resigned to her fate from day one, she knew she would die and it had been somewhat of a surprise that that prediction hadn't come true yet. No she didn't have any selfish philosophy of winning. Heck, being a victor was even worse than dying, at least when you die the whole world doesn't turn up just to celebrate how horrible a person you are. No, winning is a curse, but that's why she has to do it. Penance. She needs to pay for her crime, and spending the life as a Victor, fighting against the Games is the only way she's ever going to do it. She just needs a chance, an opening and everything will fall into place...

* * *

The box plays as the girl slowly drifts off to sleep, her eyes constantly fixed on the wall ahead of her, trying not to pay attention to the boy behind her. The one who looks like he's already asleep. She's a final eight. That's when the alliances always fall apart. But hers is still going, and that's what bothers her. She needs to get passed that slouching boy behind her. The one who keeps giving her the dark looks, who captured her early this morning after for a few hours. A few beautiful hours, she thought she had escaped him. She wishes she could go back there, to before he'd died. To back when there was still a tribute who thought she could make it, even if he did spend all the rest of the time gushing over the tall guy with the bow. Even though he was younger than her, he made her feel safe, like she was in control of something. Like, for the first time in her life, someone cared about her. She'd felt the same around the umbrella wielding boy. The one with the funny voice who always made her feel safe, even if he did seem to lack self control. This boy didn't care about her. The one standing against the wall. She was just cannon fodder to make sure he didn't die. In front of her, the box clicks to a halt and she sighs, rolling over and grunting slightly.

She had never thought it was possible for an alliance to make you feel less safe than you were...

* * *

She'd tried to be kind, tried to be fair and not to fly off the handle and she'd failed. Shouting won't sort it, violence will never do, even conclusive proof won't work, because no one ever believes her. That leaves her with only one course of action, the one she knew she'd have to take, but never wanted to. The one that was glaring her in the face ever since she volunteered, but never, ever showed itself to her until she first stepped into the Arena.

She's going to kill her! Kill her while she sleeps! Do it slowly, do it painfully, but make sure she pays. Pays for all the suffering she's caused. She's going to pay for her father, for her half-brothers and sister, heck, even for the Mayor and all the other people she's made suffer. It will be humiliating, her death, and then, only then, will she, the youngest victor of all time, have the voice to tell everyone what she really thinks. Who she really is.

The mayor will see that she is right when she gets her story out. He'll see that she's always been right, and he'll set things straight. Heck, he'll probably even adopt her or something, just to be nice!

It's a juvenile theory, but she actually, genuinely believes it. She can even carry it out as soon as possible. All she needs to do is get rid of these other two first though. Get rid of them quickly. It's nothing personal, they just need to die.

And then everyone will live happily ever after.

* * *

He can't let them go. He shouldn't let them go, even if they want to. Even if they want to kill him. They don't know the plan, don't know how integral they are to the great scheme of things. He needs to show them... to prove his point... If they know what they're doing they'd help him... If they knew why they were here... But he can't tell them. Because if the girls know then they know, and if they know the whole plan will be ruined, and he'll never be able to go home again, not for as long as he stood breathing... which wouldn't be very long at all...

He wants to see her again. The girl who understands him not the girls who don't... The only girl who trusts him, not the one's who refuse to so bluntly... He doesn't care about these two anymore than they care about him. They're just a means to an end, even if he doesn't want to kill them, they still have to die. But her? Well, he doesn't know how he feels about her... He likes her... Probably because he doesn't know, while these girls are so obvious in there actions... He knows these two hate him but her... sometimes he thinks she does but, still he doesn't think...

Maybe it could have been something if he'd only thought about it more... maybe not... who can say? Maybe they could still be something now... not happy, of course... not after what he's been through... what she's been through. Maybe they could just stay the same forever, two kids who just don't understand each other and no one would mind... Probably not. But he can still wish...

* * *

Arcticmist: 20

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 70

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 75

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 160

Narcissa Weasly: 85

HelloPoppet123: 40

MySoulToReap: 40

Beware of the Nargles: 120

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 40

wildone97: 150

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 50

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

That Annoying Person: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

FINAL EIGHT!


	36. One, two skip a few Day Five

A/N: First things first, I would like to state that I will be continuing with this story. I took a break due to a sudden surge of homework and some problem with the computer meaning I couldn't log on and access my files. I just want to say that you musn't worry about me abandoning my own Games. I'm not going to, I update once a week as often as I can, and I think that's as much as I can do. So please, if you're just going to review to tell me to update, don't. It's nice that you're taking an interest but, really, I don't need it!

Well anyway, I'm postponing my Dead Tributes Society for the week, so that we can get down to some much needed admin, just so everyone knows who's good at what and who's in the final eight!

* * *

**Tonight on...**

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day 4/5**

They'd been given a day. Thank God they'd been given a day.

The Games Makers hadn't anticipated that it would be so hard to regulate and repair all the Mutts in the Arena, so the tributes had been given a day of peaceful, and forced, sleep, while the Games Makers moved things around and fiddled with finishing touches. It got viewers in too, eager to watch a day of interviews and highlights, which was always a bonus!

Stones click under high, metal strapped boots as the diminutive figure of Thebes Horrors steps into the now abandoned tributes tower and makes his way into the main hall. OK, abandoned probably wasn't quite the right word. Not when the place is literally crawling with reporters, dignitaries and drink carrying Avoxes, all of them chattering excitedly about who they'd sponsored and how long they'd lasted, or commiserating with others about wasted sponsorships and dead tributes. The air is abuzz with talk of the final eight and, as Thebes pushes his way through the crowd, he recoils at the sight of the party's centerpiece, the bodies of the last eight tributes to have died, dressed in Capitol robes and fully restored to their original appearance, hanging alongside the body of Katniss Everdeen.

Thebes had never been a particularly 'Capitol-like' citizen. He'd always been disgusted by this sort of showboating. The kids had suffered for your enjoyment after all, let them rest! It didn't really matter now, though. The kids are dead and, wherever they are, they probably don't care too much about some stupid last minute showboating now. The man gave a slight smile as he remembered the living. The tributes who were dragging on, and who had been given an extra day, while the Games prepared its next stage. It was a pathetic compensation, since the tributes wouldn't know, as their lungs were being filled with sleep gas every hour to stop them from waking. The smile sags as he realises that, at the end of the day, the action is simply prolonging the deaths of seven of them.

Thebes forces his face back into a smile, coming back his hair and nodding curtly to the Games Makers as he enters the room. One nods back. Thebes sighs inwardly as he recognises the face of the lightening bolt haired Felix Fortissimus, newly appointed Games Maker and previous Escort of District Three. He looks around him, and immediately notices the other Escorts, spread out along the long table, fiddling idly with their hair.

"Good morning Mister Horrors," Zitheneals Denair begins, trying to make small talk as the older man takes his seat, "Sponsored anyone yet?" Thebes shakes his head. It was true, sponsoring wasn't something he did, even if he wanted someone to win, which he had. Denair had known this, of course, otherwise he wouldn't have asked, and his smile grows at Thebes response.

"Yes. Good." He nods, and Thebes sits down opposite him, "Any favorites?" Thebes winces and the man gives a small, rather harsh sounding giggle. There is a brief pause, and then Denair continues. "Do you know why you're here? Anyone?" Thebes shakes his head again and Denair gives another giggle, before leaning forwards and clicking a button. A large screen opens behind him and, without even so much as indicating her, one of the female Games Makers, a woman by the name of Donna is on her feet, a pointer clutched in her hand, bells jangling excitedly in her hair.

"These," The woman begins, tapping the screen as the eight faces, two smiling, six glaring, appear on the screen behind her, "Are our surviving tributes." Thebes sighs, a recap. Yet another pointless exercise to pull in viewers who want to vote on the Games. Donna gives a low chuckle, before continuing "So, lets start with the Careers shall we? We can work our way to the others later." She flicks another switch and, with a rhythmic clicking noise, the machine begins to whir, as the voice of Claudius Templesmith pours out of the speakers, almost calming in its over the top obnoxiousness.

"_Ah yes,"_ Claudius drawls as the grinning visage of Irre Massenhaft bursts onto the screens, his ringed brown eyes staring out at the occupants of the room, as though planning their death with very second, _"Who can forget Irre Massenhaft? On the plus side, this competitors shown his ruthlessness, efficient and is at least tough enough to hold his own in the multiple fights he's been in! On the negative though, he does seem to be a tad unstable. He's got a good chance of winning, but I don't think he'd be the nicest Victor ever!"_ The screens flash and, in an instant, the screen no longer contains Massenhaft's face, but rather the self confident snarl of blond haired, blue eyed Blake Kaitz. _"Originally seen as the weak link of the Careers alliance, Kaitz proved his worth by removing all who stood in his rise to power. Good looks and brains combined, Kaitz is a current favorite to win!"_ The photo flashes again, to be quickly replaced by the beautiful, ginger haired girl from District Three who Thebes had never learnt the name of.

"_And talking of brains and good looks!"_ Claudius babbles, _"Let's have a look at Kate Ryal, shall we?" _Ah, so Kate was her name! _"We haven't seen much of young Kate recently, since she's been trekking along with Jakob Hart, her District partner, for most of the Games. But now he's dead, and she's determined to win, I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot more of her." _The screens flash again, and this time a tall albino girl appears, her doe eyes staring out at Thebes, as though accusing him of being responsible for her current predicement._ "Georia is some what of a famous figure in the haunted lands of District Eight but, then again, that's probably to be expected. She does look kind of like a ghost!"_ He pauses, snickering to himself before continuing, _"Georia's been quite distracted recently, as if she's scared of everything she sees. While she doesn't seem like a strong competitor, who knows? Scared people can be very... err... scary!"_ The screens flash into a sullen teen, staring out at the viewers, his hair blocking one of his eyes from view and obscuring the other. Trent Flee. Thebes knows the name even before Claudius says it, that guy is creepy! _"Trent seems to have taken a leading role in his alliance, which, amazingly,has lasted to the final eight. Although it is unknown whether or not this is due to his command, or out of mutual respect for Hype Tarick. Seeing as none of those ideas seem very likely, I guess it won't be long before everyone is killing everyone else!"_ Trent's face flashes away as soon as it appears, to be replaced with a tall dark skinned girl, her hair twisted into uncomfortable looking ringlets and a dark eyed teen, his hair cut short against his head. _"Zus Ryaov and Lenox Carter, the latest tributes to experience death! Of course she's still reeling from her accidental murder of her partner and our relentless sniper, ready to strike at any moment! Zus has proved his worth by killing his last opponent with a gas lamp, which shouldn't technically be possible but hey, the world's crazy like that! Both desperate to get back to their family, how long can these two last?"_

Claudius says a little more, cracks a few jokes and recaps the deaths, most of them Mutt caused. The tributes seemed particularly unwilling, or possibly unable, to kill one another this year. Maybe it was because of all the flashy effects and Mutts that had been thrown in. Some how, the idea that these children weren't monsters made the whole thing worse for Thebes.

"It's good isn't it?" Donna asks, leaning forwards towards the Escorts, bells jangling in her hair. "We have a fine variety of tributes." The attending Games Makers and Escorts nod in agreement, making passing comments and gestures about the situation. Something doesn't seem right to him. It's like that time he left one of his sons in the grocery store. Amidst all the hustle and bustle and excited voices, he knew that something was wrong. That someone was missing.

"You only showed seven tributes," he mutters and immediately all eyes are on him, boring into him as though he has said some unknown taboo. He starts to sweat and stutter, but continues none the less, "What about the little one?" There's a brief pause and, for a minute all is silent. No one speaks. No one moves. No one even breaths. And then Zitheneals gets up, walking over to Thebes with a cackling cough and a spring in his step.

"Do you know how much trouble that one girl has caused to District Seven?" He asks, kneeling by Thebes and placing a hand on his shoulder in an almost paternal gesture, even though he is several years younger, "She's tearing their leadership system apart, what with bot the Mayor and his wife struggling for," He stops, coughing into his sleeve, "For power." Thebes nods, remembering all those news reports he had half watched where they talked of anarchy in District Seven, "Besides, she's thirteen! How is she going to win? Who would ever sponsor her?" He turns away, waving his hand and dismissing the meeting, "Poor little Kayton Roys."

* * *

Kayton Roys groans. She stretches, surprised at how stiff she feels and by how hungry she is all of a sudden. She rubs her back with one hand, wiping her eyes with the other and picking herself off the floor, her head a blur. Taking a deep breath, she lets her eyes droop, then forces them open again and looks around. Trent is standing against the wall, snoring gently, obviously asleep for the first time ever. Georia has rolled away from her, having pulled her knees up to her chest, and is whimpering softly to herself in her sleep. The box lies next to her in the water, half submerged, hugged to Georia's chest. Kayton smiles, for a moment she can almost imagine they're a family, a nice, happy family with nothing to worse to worry about than bullying and money issues, not imminent death! The tall boy in the corner could almost be her brother, Laken, and the girl? Well, she could be her step sister if she squinted enough and tilted her head to one side. Kayton gives a frowns as she looks down at them. It's a crying shame that they both have to die. If it were any other time, any other place, then she would have just snuck away. But she'd seen how that had worked out for Georia. Somehow, Trent had found her again, and Kayton couldn't let happen because, next time they met could well be the last. Besides, she tells herself as she scoops her large axe up from the ground and pulls the small one off of her belt, she doesn't need allies. She could do this by herself. She always had, always would. She yawns as she approaches them, stumbling slightly as she is hit by another sudden wave of stiffness. Her frown deepens as she stares down at the sleeping boy. Even with him sitting against the wall, sleeping gently, his head is still only a couple of centimeters shorter than her. She lifts her axes, blinks and shakes her head, imagining his eyes boring into her. A shiver runs down her spine, despite the heat of the shining caves and she looks away.

OK, maybe she isn't ready to kill just yet. Not face to face anyway, not while the victim can stare her straight in the eye. Well maybe stare isn't the best word, more like peer from under their hair. She clamps her eyes tightly shut, raising both axes above her head and keeping her neck slightly tilted, just in case she should open her eyes. One of the axes will hit, she convinces herself, even if the other misses it will still be enough to kill him. And that'll make everything easier. It will all be better once he's dead. Killing the girl will just be the same. She might even be able to watch this time. Even though she couldn't with Hype. She couldn't watch as he died. She couldn't help him. And he had been the linchpin of the alliance, everyone had known it. It had only been a matter of who snapped first. Good thing that person was her.

"_TRIBUTES! WAKEY WAKEY!"_ Kayton jumps as the voice shakes the caves, the small axe toppling out of her grip and tumbling through the air, slashing Trent's arm on the way down. For a second everything is still and then, suddenly, the whole world jumps as something warm clamps against her neck, slamming her against the wall. Her eyes creak open, only to be filled by white hair. The small axe pressed against her neck. She winces, lifting her own axe and knocking away the smaller one before bringing her leg up into the stomach of her attacker and kicking them backwards. Georia Hanel stares at her, wide eyed.

"What are you doing?" Kayton roars, but Georia simply shrugs, spinning the axe in her hands before pitching herself back into combat. Up in the studio, Claudius smirks, before continuing, _"Welcome to day five!" _There is a clatter of metal as the weapons fall to the ground and both tributes spin around, staring up at where they imagine the cameras to be in a startled silence. _"That's right, day five! Sorry for the wait!"_ He laughs heartily, _"Don't think you'll be needing those coats anymore huh guys? Seriously, head outside and take a look, you'll just love what we've done with the place!_" Neither girl believes him, each of them circling each other, more comfortable with fighting their erstwhile ally than they are with fighting whatever's outside.

"You were trying to kill us." Georia mutters darkly, Kayton nods. There's no point in denying it.

"It's the point of the Games." She replies, voice bereft of emotion. It's been weathered out of her, she supposes, by all of that killing. She still has emotions, just not in her voice, or her eyes, or her body. As far as she can tell.

"I was planning to do that you know." Georia laughs humorlessly, "Two days ago. Guess I got unlucky, huh? Meeting that creep from one." There's no time for Kayton to be surprised, as the other girl launches off the ground, slashing furiously and, unfortunately, inaccurately, at the tiny target. She stumbles, tripping into the water and rolling into her box, which lies just below the waterline. Kayton stares at her as she picks herself up and, despite the heat of the moment, both girls stop. The box is too low. And the water is rising. Forgetting their plight, the two back away, instinctively pressing towards each other, pulling away from the box itself. An almighty crack sounds above the two girls and a little bit of debris tumbles from it, landing on Kayton's head with an unrealistically loud crack. Wind rushes past them as they take their eyes off the ground, staring up at the ceiling. A myriad of cracks run through the cave, shaking off dust and splitting apart like some kind of dog shaking off water. The sound of dripping liquid mingles with the crunch and crash of stone. From outside, something drifts down. A harsh, rhythmic tapping, like a drumbeat, getting steadily closer. The two spin on their feet, staring up out of the cave as the sound grows closer, accompanied by an odd buzz, like bees, ready to fight off an intruder. As they listen, the cracks grow louder, the drumming and buzzing grows closer closer, the water begins to bubble and rise and Claudius' voice pours back through the speakers, as quick and deadly as the roiling, boiling waves themselves.

"_No one wants to move huh? Fine. The waters rising though. This whole cave should be flooded in, oh I don't know, couple a minutes! See you outside!"_ The ceiling bursts and water crashes down. Kayton gapes, turning and fleeing, the older girl limping behind her, eyes wide, as though the devil herself is after her. Trent doesn't make a sound and, as Kayton's eyes set on where he was, she sees why. He's already running, the strange box clamped under his arm, running like the wind.

"Alliance is over... Good luck girls..."

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Tortured and Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Tortured by Verain, Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Tortured and Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

District 2 OUT :(

11: Alylla Stone (D9)- Killed by Zus, skull smashed

10: Jakob Hart (D3)- Killed by Kate, poisoned

9: Ash Vernon (D7)- Killed by Lenox, burnt

Left: 8 tributes

* * *

Arcticmist: 20

A type of Wallflower: 35

SilverDagger: 10

Freedom of Thought: 70

Haley: 10

dudleyson: 10

akatrixie: 75

Ereader64: 25

Son of X: 30

Fuzzybubny: 10

booksarecool: 10

Meiveva Sirenice: 105

Ginny Weasley23: 160

Narcissa Weasly: 85

HelloPoppet123: 40

MySoulToReap: 40

Beware of the Nargles: 120

seagreenbeauty: 20

skgirl4ever: 40

wildone97: 150

pianoette: 30

MyRedPheonix: 70

CoolOw: 10

J.F x Serioki: 80

kuhse: 80

JayceeSue44227: 10

J C Kali: 50

sugercoated: 10

sfdgoz: 10

That Annoying Person: 10

The Other Packman: 10

* * *

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft (Kills 1): Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Jakob Hart (Kills 0): Medium pack (food eaten), 3 bandages, blowtube and 8 darts, thick coat and boots, tape recorder

Kate Ryal (Kills 0): Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz (Kills 0): Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Kayton Roys (Kills 0): Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals), large axe, capitol tent

Georia Hanel (Kills 0): Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov (Kills 2): Longbow and 6 arrows, lamp, thick coat and boots

Trent Flee (Kills 0): Dino Mutt pelt, Improvised knife

Lenox Carter (Kills 1): 5 fever pills, makeshift poncho, rope, sword

RESERVE: Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie) Capitol medicine (cut sealant), slingshot (Arcticmist)

* * *

Next week/ month/ year (But it will happen): The Dead Tribute Society


	37. Dead Tributes 3 and a half

A/N: I am so sorry that I haven't been able to update recently, but I have had a ton of work. On top of that a sudden burst of writers block has made this chapter astoundingly hard to write, meaning that I'll probably be splitting in to two chapters and putting them one after another, sorry.

Anyway, this chapter is yet another Dead Tributes Society. Look back and remember folks, it doesn't get any easier to write from here in out! Sorry...

**All new, all dead**

**The Dead Tributes Society:**

**The Return**

"_Well well well, we have our final eight! And who could ask for a better one eh? Each a wonderful tribute in their own way, good luck to them all! But what about the others? The one's who never made it back home? Who succumbed to cold and traps and tributes on the third day, never to rise again. How are their families, friends, pets? It's time to find out, as we take a visit home..."_

* * *

EMERY LOX (Age 15):

District Six is out. District Six is out. District Six is out.

James doesn't know why but, for some reason, this is the only thought that passes through his head as he drags himself home through the streets of District Six, cheeks wet and dirty. It had only taken two days and, just like that, all hope had been wiped out for the half crippled Phillip Sutton and his acrobatic girlfriend. They're never coming back.

And District Six is out.

Why did he keep thinking that? It's not the important thing. There aren't any real prizes for winning the Games that outweigh the negatives of being in a fight for the death. The fact is that two children, both of whom he'd known, are dead, buried, and gone to wherever it was that dead kids went, if anywhere. Maybe that is why he can't think about the death, just the fact the District didn't win. It gives him something to cling to. Something that doesn't involve the death of his sister. Maybe that's why, yesterday, he'd been able to grieve Phillip but, today? He didn't feel like he could grieve anything anymore, especially not his sister.

The door swings open even as he reaches it, revealing the tangled brown hair and sad green eyes of his sister, Chantrea. She smiles at him as he tumbles to the floor, helping him up with a slender hand. Her eyes dart to a loose thread on his jacket and, in an instance, the thread is gone, held in between both hands by Chantrea. She holds it up, nods and inspects it, before placing it in her pocket with about a hundred similar threads. James tries to smile wearily, but instead his face sort of wrinkles and sags. Chantrea had never quite been right in the head and, right now, he didn't have time to deal with her oddness. He pushes past her, beginning to walk down the hall.

"Everyone seems sad." Chantrea mutters, eyes fixed on the ground, "I can't work out why. I think it's best to leave them alone." The boy ignores her, trying to block out her voice until his head clears.

James sighs, his eyes prickling as he makes his way through the eerily silent house, trying to ignore the muffled sobs coming from the other room. His mom and dad had offered to let Phillip's parents stay until they could cope with the loss, and now, all of a sudden, it's his mom, not Phillip's, who needs help coping. He peeks in through the door as he passes, seeing what he'd already guessed would be there. His mother, redheaded and beautiful, her face screwed up in a look of pure sorrow, weeping heavily against the table. Alice Sutton, her pale, tear streaked face wreathed by dark hair, trying to comfort her with hollow words, knowing from the previous day's experience that nothing could help like crying out the grief. Tim Sutton, a frown on his painted white face, his hair dyed a dark blue, still wearing his gaudy clown garbs. It didn't look right, especially on a man as clever as Tim Sutton, a doctor by trade. James is used to that though, used to Tim's performance coming every other day, regular as clockwork. No, it isn't that. It's how sad he looks. A frown like that just doesn't look right on the man. Last, but by no means least, James' eyes fall on his own father, eyes dark and dreadful, filled with fury masking his sadness, all of it aimed directly at the Capitol. If he could get up from his wheelchair, stand and walk, James is under no doubt that his father would rise to his feet and storm the Capitol right now, demanding vengeance. James would have liked to see that. It would be nice, getting revenge for what happened to Emery. Sounds of cheers and whoops come drifting down from outside and James covers his ears, heading away from the circus that fills the streets. He almost stomps out of the house at that instance, shouting for them to stop. Reminding them that something, something horrific, has just happened, but he doesn't. He doesn't know why, again. There's a lot of things he doesn't know. Maybe it's because he knows that, deep down inside, his family isn't the only one to have suffered tragedy. Two children die every year on average meaning that, over the years, over one hundred innocent District Six teens had been sent to their death. Almost everyone out their knows at least one person who's been sent away to die, some are even related to them, like him. They need to be able to laugh again. They need to be able to forget what happened to their friends, their families. Just like what he's trying to do.

He frowns, trying to push those thoughts out of his head as he stomps into the yard, coming across Jericho Sutton, Phillip's brother, and, curiously enough. Chantrea. She must have beaten him here.

"Hey." He mutters to them, raising his hand and forcing an unconvincing smile onto his face. Jericho says nothing, instead looking away from James. The other boy hadn't said anything since Phillip entered the Games and, from what James can tell about him, it's unlikely he will speak in the foreseeable future. Chantrea nods and gives a small curtsy and James walks up to his sister, taking her by the hand and looking out over the colouful streets of their home. The girl smiles slightly and, for the first time in hours his head clears, and that one thought that has been plaguing him vanishes into thin air.

"Emery's dead." He says, tears running down his cheeks. He hopes she understands what he's talking about, and that death isn't another of those words that she never learnt.

"I know." She mutters, squeezing his hand tightly and swinging it backwards and forwards a little, "But Emery was mad. Isn't it better that she dies there, and doesn't come back to the Districts where her madness can hurt everyone?" James thinks of it for a second. It doesn't make any sense but, for some reason, it releases something inside him. He falls to his knees and, for the first time since Emery dies, cries bitterly.

Chantrea just stands there, holding onto his hand, confused, listening to the wails of her brother as they trail off into the dark.

* * *

SCRATCH STANDARDS (17):

Allina Wheats had never known Scratch Standards.

OK, well that was a lie. She'd known him in kindergarten, twelve years ago. Back before everyone was worried about the Games. She'd liked Scratch, he was one of the older boys who always came down to the playground to play. He wasn't too poor to be trusting or too rich to be arrogant and even if he was, it wouldn't have mattered to her. He'd been one of the best friends she'd ever had and, besides, she'd always sort of thought he was cute. He'd been a nice guy, and she was sad when he'd left to work the year she moved into the first grade. She'd seen him a few times, harvesting grain in the fields and, once or twice, hidden away in the forests just outside the town, honing his skills with a large, cobbled together spear. He seemed nice enough, a hard worker and unbelievably kind to everyone around him but, the last time he saw her, she was certain he hadn't recognised her. And those last few days of his life when he'd been on the Television starting with ... He hadn't been the same guy. It was like watching some boy she didn't know.

So, actually, she didn't know Scratch Standards. But she knew his sister and his brother. She tutored both of them and she knew that this what hit them hard.

And, like always, she was the only person who could possibly cheer them up. So that was probably why she was standing here now, on their doorstep, a pack filled with money in one hand and her arm wrapped around Kio's, as though they were just another teenage couple who had come to give their condolences.

The door of the house creaks slowly open almost as soon as her hand brushes the door, revealing the hallow face and crooked back of Cleveland Standards, father of the deceased. Allina's grin falters slightly as she is struck by how much Cleveland looks like his son, save for the bent back, a few wrinkles and a rather pained expression carved across his face. He looks down at the bag that Allina holds at her side, sighs and then looks up at her again.

"Thank you," He mutters, and Allina's grin widens as she holds the bag out. He bats her hand away, "But we don't need charity." He pushes the door closed, Kio sticks his foot in the way and begins to push it back open. Clevand groans and, with surprising strength, bats away Kio's foot with his own, closing the door and locking it securely. Kio curses, whatever he says muffled by the gum in his mouth, and Allina shushes him, standing and staring, confused, at the door.

They stand there for several minutes, staring at the door with vacant expressions on their faces. Several long, rather boring minutes. Finally, Allina speaks.

"I don't get it." She mutters, "They just lost Scratch. Why won't they let me help them?" Kio shrugs, his face as dark and moody as ever, but his voice slightly softer than Allina is used to.

"I told you didn't I? Some folks just don't think they need it, Allina. Standards probably thinks he can take care of his little flock just fine." Allina gawps at him. How Cleveland could possibly be under any delusions that he can care for his family without Scratch? As strong as he is, there is absolutely no way that Cleveland will ever be able to return to the fields with his back the way it is.

"Your kidding, right?" She shouts and Kio smirks slightly.

"No. I'm sure he can survive just fine the way he is. He could work in a shop or something, or his kids could go and work on the fields. Either way they don't want your money."

"But they're poor!"

"So's everyone." Kio barks before marching away through the fields that surround the house, muttering that he shouldn't have come. Allina watches him go for a second, before hurrying after him, wading through crops and weeds alike until she is right behind him.

"But why can't we help them?" She shouts after him. Kio rounds on her, his face as cold and uninviting as always.

"You tried this last year!" He growls, "When those kids died you went and tried to give their families money. Did they take it?"

"No." Allina mutters, looking down at the ground.

"Yeah. So shouldn't that clue you in. We lose two kids every year, regular as clockwork. Mad old Delfont doesn't even train them properly, just leaves them to die! It was Gaia and Claude last year, this year it's Scratch and some chick called Lenox! Next year? Who knows, could be you and me for all anyone cares, and no ones gonna help our families, you know why?"

"'Cos they're mean?"

"No! 'Cos they know better!" Kio roars, turning away, his voice softens and he addresses Allina again "We don't know when we're gonna go Ali, and constantly trying to give people money is just gonna make them feel like they're using you or you think they can't cope or something..." He shrugs, smiling slightly and leading her out of the fields and into a narrow street. "I guess it sounds pretty stupid, but people gotta learn for themselves Ali. One day you'll learn that... I think." Ali grins at him and giggles, wrapping her arm around his and marching off down the street. Maybe everyone's right, maybe she really should stop doing this and just let the grievers grieve without trying to make things better

But she didn't think she was going to be doing that any time soon!

* * *

VERAIN LONGCAST (age 16):

"Well," Enoch Longcast grumbles as he leans back in a plush chair in the tributes tower, sippin on a refreshing martini and staring across the room at what should have been a grotesque sight of his little sister hanging on the wall (it wasn't, Enoch knows for a fact that the 'corpse' is just a very realistic fake), "Looks like another body to add to the pile."

"Enoch!" Kai Keoloha gasps, indignant, as she knocks him over the head with her heel. Enoch groans and rolls his eyes. Girls. "What the hell? That's your sister!"

"So," Enoch mutters, actually scaring himself slightly at how casually he is taking this whole 'little sister is dead' thing. "I've had three siblings, five friends and a buddy's son die in these goddamn Games, all of 'em volunteered. All of 'em knew what they were getting into. All of 'em had been bragging about it for years before going! They weren't pathetic little weaklings like the kids in your District, got that! So excuse me if I don't get all watery eyed about another dear sister dying in the Games." He barks over a waiter. "Eh, boy! How about another martini..." He looks over at Kai, "Oh and something for my date. Fruity OK, with one a those little lemon slices on the edge." Kai glowers at him and he smiles apologetically, before taking another shoe to the head.

"You're a dick you know that?" Kai growls, and Enoch mutters something not all together pleasant. Why had he agreed to be her date to this retarded party? Sure she was sort of attractive, but they were just too different to really fit together. It's all gonna end in tears if something doesn't get better soon. "How can you not feel sad about your own sister's death? I know I'd feel horrible if anything happened Aukai or Aukake!" 'Oh god,' Enoch thinks, 'she's blathering on about her little brothers again. Quick, man, change the subject back!'

"Dunno. I always thought I'd feel sad or something," Enoch begins, wondering if he's just subconsciously trying to sound tough, or whether he actually means what he's saying, "But, now I've got here, it's really just another death."

"That's terrible!" Kai gasps, and Enoch frowns, shaking his head.

"That ain't terrible," He whispers, "I'll tell ya what's terrible. Going in. No matter how prepared you thing you are you're never ready for them Games."

"Tell me about it..." Kai mutters, looking slightly agitated by this new choice of topic.

"Went in, confident as anything, killed fourteen guys in the first day, I think, including half the Careers. Sponsors liked that, rest of tha' Career's didn't, came at me in the night. Butchered the rest. Killed seventeen kids in one day. Claudius said it was a new record. Said I should be proud. I wasn't. I'd spent four days in a ditch, not eating, hunting kids down across a rain clogged marsh..."

"Hey..." Kai mumbles, clearly distracted, "This sofa's nice. Don't you think?" Enoch, however, is in no mood to be distracted, and continues to rant and rave.

"And then on the fourth day I found these kids," Enoch growls, "Twelve, both a them. Boy with brown hair an' all pale like, girl blond, tiny thing. Had fled the Bloodbath while I was butcherin' everyone an' stuck together for warmth in some small ditch. Never crossed my path till the final eight, must a hid all that time. Not eatin'..." He pauses and sighs "They knew me, tried to run. They remembered me, should 'ave. I'd announced who I was loud enough on the first day. Heh." Kai shuffles nervously in her seat, rubbing the back of her head.

"I-I'm really not comfortable here, 'Noch. Think we could change the conversation."

"They remembered me alright," Enoch growls, ignoring Kai. The girl clenches her fists and grinds her teeth, eyes darkening, "Didn't remember 'em. Boy's leg was in a bad way. I probably did that. Girl wasn't quite awake, hair messy, one eye didn't work. I'm pretty sure I did that too. Didn't get far. Girl was dead before she could move, snapped her neck. Still remember the squeal."

"Stop." Kai mumbles, before repeating herself, more forcefully this time. Enoch doesn't listen though, he is inflamed, engulfed.

He is so engulfed by his speech, in fact, that he doesn't even notice the drink that is bought for him, even when the waiter leaves and Kai has downed her own.

"Boy tried to crawl away, let him, he couldn't get far. Hunted down the other five losers and then came back to finish him off. Kid had barely moved. Could barely breath either, wheezing or somethin'. Asthma? Is that what it's called. Dunno. Left him there, let him die. Saved me a job. One of the kids I killed had some food and there was no way I was missing out on a meal for some poor, dying sunava..."

"I said SHUT UP!" Kai shrieks, standing to her feet, "JUST SHUT UP! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT THE BLEEDING GAMES! CAN'T YOU TELL THAT IT'S BOTHERING ME?"

"No." Enoch growls, unusually calmly for him, "I can't. Don't you see, we've lost our emotions, whole bleedin' world has an' I got proof."

"Oh yeah?" Kai spits.

"Yeah. You know what they're doin' to those kids, huh? The ones in at the moment..."

"It's sick." Kai roars, "Every kid in the District's knows that!"

"Yeah an' I don't care!" Enoch roars back, "It don't matter to me, my sis is already dead an' I don't care! I don't care about nothing anymore! No Victor does! That's the point of the Games!"

"Well I care." Kai says, her voice low and dark, "I care about my family and my friends and my tributes. I cared about them and I wanted them to win, but they didn't. They went home in little wooden boxes."

"You don't care," Enoch smirks, "You killed kids same as me. You just think you care!"

"Shut up!" Kai roars, slamming her elbow into his face and knocking the huge boy backwards, "Shut up and get out of my way!"

"Or what?"

"OR I'LL TEAR YOUR UGLY MISSHAPEN HEAD OFF!" Kai threatens, before pushing Enoch out the way and storming out, making sure to throw his own drink at him as she leaves, glass and all. Enoch sighs, rubbing the glass off of his jacket, and shakes his head.

She's being stupid. There is no way in hell a tribute can care. Caring gets you killed. Caring gets you and your whole family killed, beaten to death by some chick from one or stabbed through the chest by a jerk from five or strangled by that ape from Eleven. His family had cared too much. Cared about winning.

And they'd died.

He'd given up, and he hadn't.

But, then again, that was exactly why he had shown an interest in Kai. She made the night more interesting. Sure she hadn't been sympathetic and at the end of the night he's left, lying in the middle of the floor covered in drink and glass, with groups of party guests glaring at him or laughing quietly, but she'd been someone to talk at. He is probably gonna need stitches now too, but it's an occupational hazard that he's used to, and it is hardly Kai's fault that she didn't like to talk about the Games, as much as he has tried to pretend it is. Sure she's doomed to die, broken and betrayed by the people who worship her, for whom she's just another perform to be abused and destroyed, just like they did to him but at least she's still fighting. Fighting for her life every day, just like he is.

And it keeps him going, knowing that he's not alone. Knowing that the other Victor's understand that the dead are lucky ones, that they only have to put up with the battle for a few days, not a whole life time. The dead don't know how good they've got it.

They should be pitying him, not the other way around!

* * *

_'ATTENTION: SPONSORSHIP IS NOW CLOSED, THERE'S NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO TO HELP AND, SOON, YOU WILL SEE WHY!'_

* * *

The Dead:

24: Alew Ferove (D8)- Killed by Demis, skull shattered

23: Quentin Rapido (D5)- Killed by Zus, shot

22: Essence Craymaker (D1)- Killed by Alylla, beheaded

21: Arixo Varsity (D12)- Tortured and Killed by Irre, stabbed

20: April Conolly (D10)- Killed by Mutts, eaten

19: Hype Tarick (D12)- Killed by Mutts, crushed

District 12 OUT :(

18: Phillip Sutton (D6)- Killed by Jules, stabbed

17: Jules Radcliffe (D4)- Killed by Phillip, poisoned

16: Teagan Cooper (D5)- Tortured by Verain, Killed by Mutts, shot

District 5 OUT :(

15: Demis (D2)- Killed by Alylla, stabbed

14: Emery Lox (D6)- Killed by boiling water

District 6 OUT :(

13: Scratch Standards (D11)- Tortured and Killed by Verain, stabbed

12: Verain Longcast (D2)- Killed by Scratch, strangled

District 2 OUT :(

11: Alylla Stone (D9)- Killed by Zus, skull smashed

10: Jakob Hart (D3)- Killed by Kate, poisoned

9: Ash Vernon (D7)- Killed by Lenox, burnt

Left: 8 tributes

The Tributes:

Irre Massenhaft (Kills 1): Kama, dagger, cool eye patch

Kate Ryal (Kills 1): Small knife, bow, 9 arrows, thick coat and boots

Blake Kaitz (Kills 0): Small pack (food eaten), sword, dagger

Kayton Roys (Kills 0): Small ax, large food basket (food for 2 more meals), large axe, capitol tent

Georia Hanel (Kills 0): Large pack (food eaten), slingshot, Weird Box

Zus Ryaov (Kills 2): Longbow and 6 arrows, lamp, thick coat and boots

Trent Flee (Kills 0): Dino Mutt pelt, meat cleaver

Lenox Carter (Kills 1): 5 fever pills, makeshift poncho, rope, sword

RESERVE: Bow and 10 arrows (kuhse) Banquet (Narcissa Weasley) Small basket of food (akatrixie) Capitol medicine (cut sealant), slingshot (Arcticmist)

Next Week: The Gladiators.


	38. Day Five: The Gladiators

A/N: '_Remember, __you __may __no __longer __sponsor__ tributes, __although__ you__ may __send __weapons __you__ have __already __reserved. __If __you __do __try __to__ sponsor__ you__ may __still __be__ charged. __Please__ do __not __stop __reviewing__ as __I __appreciate __your __input! __Now __sit __back,__ grab __the __popcorn __and __enjoy __the __closing __stages __of...'_

* * *

**The Ninety-Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day Five**

Kayton clutches her side as she runs, head down, axe gripped tightly in her hand and trailing behind her, pulling her back with its weight. In front of her runs the tall boy, bent down against the small box which he holds close to his chest. Despite this load, he is still disappearing into the distance, on account of his longer legs and frightening speed. Behind her stumbles Georia Hanel, whimpering and gasping, leaning heavily on her one good leg. The girl is struggling, pale and clammy, her mind, as always, completely fixed on survival. And, at the moment, survival means running, and running as fast as you can!

Behind them the water bubbles and bursts, slashing against the glowing walls of the tunnels and ripping the shinning rocks from their places, smashing them together in a devastating melee. Georia cries out as rocks snap at her heels, slowing her down even further as, up in front, Kayton throws more and more nervous glances over her shoulder and Trent disappears into the distance, turning a corner and being swallowed up by shadows. Kayton rushes behind him but, even before she reaches the turn, the walls shift and slide, obscuring Trent's escape and opening a sharp corner. She kicks against the wall, launching herself down yet another corridor, with Georia stumbling behind her. The sound of drums and cheers grows louder and louder above her as they run, a tidal wave of stone and shrapnel following disturbingly (and increasingly) close behind. They reach a crossroads, Kayton skidding to a halt as she tries to decide which way to go.

Suddenly the girl feels herself pushed to the ground, a large hand pressing on her back as someone launches over her, fleeing in the other direction. She pulls herself back onto her hands and knees as, behind her, Georia catches up and the wall shifts behind them, closing them off from the vicious seas. Kayton gasps in pain as the hand removes itself from her back and the owner of it, the massive Zus Ryaov, flees down the corridor, pursued by an army of small, overly teethed Mutts, which look kind of like a cross between monkeys and fish. They ignore Kayton, trampling her into the dust and pressing Georia against the wall, which is beginning to crack and drip water. It bursts and, as the little Mutts try to scurry over Kayton, they, along with the two girls, are swept away by a gigantic wave. Kayton struggles and twitches as she is slammed, again and again against bits of rock, glowing walls and even the occasional Mutt or Georia Hanel. She just about manages, in the blur of little sharp teeth and shimmering lights, to keep a grip on her large axe, even as her body is bruised and grazed and her clothing ripped by speeding currents. Her legs kick uselessly as she is whipped around, trying to give herself some direction as she is pulled from the water and dunked again and again. She thinks she sees Georia for a second, swept by by a huge wave. She is faring little better than Kayton, possibly worse. She is, infact, completely upside down, her head under the water and her legs flailing uselessly, trying desperately to swim against the current. Kayton is dunked under the water as Georia's left leg,covered in old burns and scars from some injury that is, presumably, not recent, whips out and smacks her under the waves. Kayton hacks and coughs and feels slightly woozy, the world blurs and becomes indistinct and, in an instant, her head collides with a wall. There is a disturbingly loud crack, which doesn't seem to be coming from her, and her body falls limp. Lights float and dance and, in what seems like the far distance, the other girl fades and warps, as though dissolving in the oddly comforting blue of the fiercely frothing water. All thoughts of drowning and danger disperse, despite the gravity of her situation, to be replaced with a sort of comforting confusion. Her body becomes numb, impervious to all the scrapes and scratches of the hard rocks and sharp fangs and claws of the Mutts. Her last thought is of absolute bliss, as she slowly slips into unconsciousness.

* * *

Lenox Carter gasps for air as she breaks the surface, eyes wild, teeth gritted together in concentration as she claws at the flat ground that lies above her, dry as a bone and completely Mutt free. The whip at her belt sways and twists in the clutches of tiny Mutt jaws, threatening to spark as it spins around and around, fraying and splitting. She turns, frantically swatting the Mutts off of her. She was not going the same way as Ash Vernon! That was not going to happen! The creatures snarl and bubble furiously as they are batted away, each one tearing strips of flesh off along with them. Her other hand twists and reaches as her legs kick, trying to pull herself up onto the flat plain. Her eyes scrunch up and she places her foot on a rock, pushing down hard and lifting herself out of the water. The Mutts snarl and flap, jumping up at her and sending her splashing back down into the water, scattering the Mutts again. She roars in frustration, somehow righting herself in the roiling depths and swimming up again, hooking her leg onto the rocks and lifting herself. She jumps, gripping the edge of the rock. Her wet fingers dance and skid on the smooth, white surface, and she topples back into the murky depths, back to the mouths of the Mutts. She screams as they rip at her, sending them fleeing and returning to the surface, bursting through it again with berserker ferocity. Again she leaps from the waves and grips the surface. Again her fingers slip and she falls back. Again she rights herself and returns. Again and again she leaps for the surface, again and again she fails, until she is less of a girl, more of a mass of cuts and bruises. Yet she refuses to give up! Better to be battered and bruised out of recognition than to burn to death in water, if that is truly what it is, like that idiot Pyro!

_'It's __not__ water.'_ Claudius informs, '_It's__ Creta __something __Prodoxide.__ Okay, __well__ most o__f__ it's __water__ actually,__ about__ ninety __nine __percent. __Otherwise__ swimming__ would __pretty__ much__ be__ a __death__ sentence! __And __we __don't __want __our __tributes __dead __now __do __we?__ Then __we__ wouldn't __have __all __our __lovely __combatants __now__ would __we?'_

Lenox groans, splashing back into the roiling water for the umpteenth time, choking and gagging, her head heavy. Each time she falls she becomes drowsier, more complacent, as though the water itself is sapping the last of her strength. She gags and gulps, too tired to shake off the Mutts as she pulls herself up to the rock perch once more. Above her the sounds of cheering and drums reaches an intolerable level, somehow both distorted and amplified by her mind. Her muscles shake and ache as she lifts her body for what she is sure will be the final time, tiny Mutts gripping to every piece of exposed flesh, their little teeth scraping and slicing at her flesh, sending streams of blood down her increasingly pale legs. Her back is bruised and battered and she's fairly sure she's lost at least one boot. Her arms feel like lead as she pulls herself onto the rock, and it creaks and cracks under her weight, but that matters little to her. This is her final shot and, live or die, she is getting onto that ground above her. She just needs to take it one second at a time.

"One..."

She strains and stretches, her arms reaching for the flat surface but, as always, coming short. She shifts her balance, placing her other foot on a higher foothold and lifting herself up to a higher perch.

"...Second..."

She stretches out again, gripping another hold with her right arm and reaching up with her left, squeezing her eyes together and praying that, this time, she'll be able to reach the surface.

"...At..."

This time her hand reaches and, while it slips, she is able to force her leg up and swing it over to the surface. The stone is cold against her foot, cold and unbelievably smooth. She gasps in exhaustion, swinging her other arm up and beginning to pull herself up, Mutts twitching on her body and tumbling back into the water, eager to return to the cooling sea, their stomachs full of her blood.

"...A time..."

She raises herself up, slipping her shoulders and chest up onto the surface and looking around woozily. She had been right, the surface is marble (she didn't know much about stone, but she was fairly sure that no other type of rock could ever be that smooth. the world around her is a large area, entirely carpeted in marble, and she has pulled herself up right in the middle. The ground is perfectly flat, and there are weapons racks against every wall. People cheer at her from every angle. Real people! She climbs onto her feet, shaking with exhaustion as she regards the world around her. Has she won? No, no, she can't have won, not everyone is dead yet! She's in an arena. A Colosseum. Like the ones in that city called Rome. The one that she had been taught about in school. The earliest culture known to Panem! Well, at least her theory about the Arena changing to fit History was right, which meant she had at least some idea of what was coming next. She takes a step forwards and that's when the pain hits. She gasps, her body swelling with agony and falls back, slipping on the marble. The water filled pit rears up behind her and, as her head tilts back, she catches the face of Zard Frezal, staring down at her from posters and balloons which surround her.

_'That's __right __everyone!__ I'd__ like__ you __to__ meet __the __creator __of __our__ first __wonderful __Colosseum! __Victor __of __District One, Zard Frezal!' _Caesar grins, turning to the Victor in question.

"_What?__ You __really __thought __we__ were talking __about __rebellion __all __those __times __you __saw__ us?,__" _The handsome blond's eyes twinkle behind his dark glasses, "_Ha!__ Even__ I'm __clever __enough__ to __only __talk __about __rebellion__ when __there __aren't __any__ cameras__ around!__"_ He laughs, before realising how stupid that statement was and shutting up immediately.

Back in the Colosseum, Lenox topples backwards, her legs slipping from the marble, her back arching as she falls back. the creatures below her snap and snicker as if anticipating the taste of her flesh filling their mouth. They lick their lips and leap towards her. 'That's it' Lenox's mind tells her, 'You're gonna die. Sorry about that.'

Suddenly something slams into her back, flinging her headlong out of the pit and into the hard marble floor, painfully bruising her face. She rolls onto her back, just in time to receive a quick punch straight in the eye. Her eyes widen as she looks up, taking in the spiked, porcupine like hair, the hard, pointed face and the dark, ringed eye. Irre Massenhaft straightens up, fixing Lenox with a huge grin and striking a pose, like a dancer who has just finished a complicated move.

"This is gonna be fun!" Irre grins, drawing his kama and stepping closer, his single eye wild.

* * *

Next Chapter: The Final Dead Tributes Society!

ATTENTION: After my next chapter of Dead Tributes Society I will be beginning a new idea for celebrating the death of characters (which I have actually been planning for a very long time!) Basically every time a tribute dies I'll be doing a 'what if' scenario where we'll catch up with the tribute and their family one year on, as though they had won the Games. These what if ending will not be 'canon', but I thought it would be fun to see what all the tributes would be like as Victors! (I've just realised that this Games uses so many different styles and ideas that it's not really a 'Games' anymore! It's more like a clip show of different Games! Ah well, I guess that's progress for you!)


	39. Dead Tributes Society 4

A/N:_Welcome welcome and welcome back to the final ever Dead Tributes Society! Last time we took a look at the poor friends and family of our dearly departed Emery Lox, Scratch Standards and Verain Longcast. Today we catch up with Allyla Stone, Jakob Hart and Ash 'Pyro' Vernon! It's a whirlwind of tears, trauma and general tragedy, and was ridiculously difficult to write, so buckle yourself in and prepare for a wild ride, because these Games are about to get emotional!_

**The Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

**Dead Tributes Society IV: The Triumph**

* * *

**Alylla Stone, age 18**

Vylia Stone gulps for breath as tears stream down her face. It couldn't be. It was impossible. Alylla is dead! How can she be dead? How did that even work? She had the claws, and the axe, and the knife! She had more weapons than the entire Career alliance under her belt, and all it had taken was a lamp in the face, courtesy of her District partner, Zus Ryaov. It can't be, she's sure of it. Alylla can't be dead! She's still alive. Any second now she'll rise to her feet and everything will be OK. It won't have been her cannon, it will have been someone else's. The boy from Three or the girl from Seven or something like that. It can't be Alylla. It just can't.

The massive girl on the screen topples sideways, collapsing into the snow and lying still, glass embeded in her face and dark red blood bubbling out of grotesque, weeping cuts that cover her face. Alylla lies still in the snow, an expression of pure surprise carved across her features, as though she can't quite imagine how this could have happened. Like she didn't already know her death was coming.

It wasn't difficult to spot though, not for the population of District Nine, not for anyone who knew Alylla, no matter how hard they may try to kid themselves. Alylla had always been a fighter, even when she was a small child. She'd been a pugnacious brat who had picked a fight with anyone she saw who looked like they might ever try and disagree with her. She'd had a knack for starting fights and making enemies and, as much as Vylia hoped that the battered girl would clamber to her feet and finish the beastly archer who had just ended her short life, she couldn't truthfully say that she hadn't fully expected her sister to be battered to death in a fight she'd started. She always just thought she'd have more time to spend with her sister. That and she'd expected Alylla's equally fiesty flatmate to be the death of her, not some no name loser from the District who only ever came in to the District center to sell his wears. The dark skinned boy with the short hair and the filthy vocabulary who no one in their right mind would want to call a friend, except for the strange blind girl who stands on the edge of the crowd, asking what has just happened. He didn't have any right to kill her sister! He didn't even know her! Why should that wretched excuse for a human being survive when her sister was not? Vylia glares at the screen, shaking with rage as her eyes pierce into Zus, a hiss hanging on her lips, her teeth grinding together. The boy gives a dark smile, his eyes as hallowed and pitiless as ever as he turns and limps towards the entrance to the caves. Vylia spits at him, cursing the boy with all the words she knows which, thanks to the tributes barbaric vocaulary, has expanded quite a bit since the start of this years Games. The boy turns back for a second, and for a moment Vylia is caught in convinced he must have heard her, caught in some fantasy world where they are standing right next to each other, his cold eyes focused soley on her. Her sister's corpse lies further back, covered with snow and whipped by the vicious winds of the Arena. The boy shrugs, hearing shouts from behind him, and turns into the cave, beginning to limp away, she chases him, unwilling to let him go. How dare he try to go free? How dare he think he has a right to live when Alylla doesn't! Vylia grits her teeth even tighter as she stands in the windswept land of her own design, her fists clenched, sweat rolling down her back, her eyes as dark and merciless as the boy. As dark and merciless as her sister's. She can stop him. She can just reach out, as easily as anything in the world, and snap the bastard's neck. Her nails dig into her palms and she winces, trying to move them up towards Zus' neck. They don't budge. She tries again, but still she's met with nothing. No response. No movement. Not even a little twitch of a finger or quiver of a hair. The imaginary Zus who stands before her shakes his head and gives a sly grin, before turning and loping into the caves. She screams profanities after him. Trying to move her legs. Trying to move after him, but she can't. She's stuck fast. Blood trickles slowly down her face, bits of glass shatter and dance in her vision, and then she falls backwards. Into Alylla's body and through it. Through it and into the ice below, where she lies wide eyed, frozen in pain. Just like her sister.

It's a couple of minutes before Vylia tumbles back in to the real world, shaken from her dream by sobs. And it's another few minutes before she realises that she shouted those foul profanities aloud. She gasps, covering her mouth and shaking visions of revenge from her mind, finally goading herself into taking in the world around her. Most people are looking at her, sadly shaking their heads and muttering things about her outburst, and how they didn't think she had it in her. Something quivers next to her, squirming and twitching with howls, like an injured animal in its death throes. It takes her a moment to realise who it is. Her brother, Tuscan, bawling into her shirt, his face red and stained with dirty tears. Vylia forces a smile, stroking his hair and trying to comfort him as the camera pans away from their sister, cutting to the pair of kids from District Three as the other families of the District pay their respects and disperse. Vylia wimpers to herself as the first few drops of rain begin to drop on herself. She forces herself to be strong as she sinks to her knees in the rain, trying to convince herself that she'll be able to cope with Alylla's death, no matter how dark things get.

If she keeps crying, she tells herself, she'll run out of tears. So will Tuscan. She'll move on and learn to live without Alylla. Everything will be all right, eventually.

But she will never, never, never forgive Zus Ryaov, no matter how long she lives.

* * *

**Jakob Hart, age 14**

The body had been returned but a few hours before and, despite being a relation of the deceased, Mr Hart isn't at all surprised when he is informed that about forty people have already payed their respects. Friends, cousins, past Victors and even the mayor himself had come to the bodies bedside and talked to it, cried over it, mourned. They acted as though the body could still hear them. As though it were still alive. Hart scoffs at the idea and would even have laughed if not for the circumstances. To imagine that Jakob could hear them was foolish. Even if there was some sort of afterlife, Hart very much doubts that the boy would be prepared to listen to the people who sent him to his death. Besides, it was impossible for Jakob to hear any of them anyway. A society that condemned children to death didn't have an afterlife. It didn't deserve one.

Hart sighs as the Peacekeepers usher him into the dark room where the body lies. He walks over to it, taking in the black cloth that hangs from every wall of the grim mauseleum to his son. The same cloth that covers the chair that sits by the body. The same cloth that covers the body itself, so that no one can see the grim visage of the dead boy. Hart shakes his head. It's a waste of cloth that, just pit the corpse in its coffin and try to forget the whole ugly affair. There's no point in regrets. Jakob was always going to die young. The boy had told Hart as much, shortly before his death in fact.

Jakob had been part of some big 'Anti-Hunger Games' movement apparently. Hart had known that for a long time. After all the boy had often talked about overthrowing the Capitol and taking over himself. He'd talked about how he'd abolish the Games and replace it with something else. Christmas or something similar. He'd been joking of course, but Hart had never managed to shake the feeling that there was some grain of truth to his wild ideas. Some form of resentment against the people who butchered his friends and neighbors yearly for their own entertainment. Hart had been slightly more surprised when, as he stood silently in the Administation building, staring at his doomed son, the boy had confessed that it had always been his plan to enter the Games. It had been a surprise to Hart to say the least. Jakob hadn't spoken to him in months, so even hearing the boy open his mouth had been a surprise. It had been even more of a surprise when Jakob told his father that he wasn't scared. That he'd always been planning to enter the Games when he hit eighteen. To make a statement. A stand. To do something with his life that would change the world for ever and never have to look back on the dystopian horror their world had become. Hart had wanted to tell him that that was insane. That he would be wasting his life. He wanted to tell the boy that he had so much to live for. But he couldn't. How could he say something so hollow to his only son? He agreed with the boy for God's sake! And it was true, it was for the best that Jakob go out a hero. What else was he going to do with his life, make headphones for whiny Capitolites? Ha! Some life. Hart sighs, lifting the cloth that covers his son and staring down into the boy's dead eyes. He looks peaceful, Hart thinks. Almost happy. For a moment Hart wishes he could have been that brave. He wishes that he could have made a stand against the Capitol all those years ago, rather than applying for the job of running the machines on Reapings day. Spending year after year creating drumrolls and happy dities so that the Capitol can forget how brutal they are. A tear rolls down his gaunt face. He could never have done something like Jakob. He just wasn't brave enough. Never had been, never would be.

He stands in an awkward silence for a couple of minutes more. Thoughts dancing in his head, tears in his eyes, until this trance of regrets is finally broken by the entrance of a Peacekeeper. The man is tall and fierce looking, with greying hair and a slight stuble. He's not very intelligent, Hart assumes from the way he holds himself, but, judging from the rifle he wears on his back, he doesn't need to be.

"Mr Hart?" The man growls, and Hart nods. "Good." The Peacekeeper nods, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing something. A small metal device, with cracked, black plastic casing covering most of it, and a few stray wires leading from it, still sparking occaisionally.

"A cassette recorder." Hart mutters, raising one eyebrow in an almost questioning fasion. He knew perfectly well what this was. As he should, he'd seen it enough even before Jakob had left with the intention of becoming a corpse.

"It's your son's token, sir."

"Yes. I can see that." Hart snaps, snatching the device away from him and inspecting it. It's water logged, and with some sort of chemical clogging it. Some of the wires are snapped and the cassette is scratched up. It's in a bad way, there's no doubt about that, but it's repairable.

"Your son also left a note." The Peacekeeper sighs, "It reads 'listen to the ends, Dad', but we can't even get the thing to start." Of course you can't, Hart thinks, you obviously have no idea how this thing works.

"Yes... yes." Hart murmurs, climbing to his feet and turning away from the large Peacekeeper. "I think I'll be going now..." He pulls on his coat, taking one last disdainful look around the distastefully furnished room, before stepping out of the door, the Peacekeeper hurrying behind him.

"Sir! The cassette!" The man grabs his shoulder, but Hart easily shrugs him off and continues walking.

"I'll listen to it later." The man growls, marching away from the square in search of somewhere with fewer cameras.

* * *

**Ash 'Pyro' Vernon, age 17**

She'd watched the gigantic blond fight his way through every challenge that had faced him with a big goofy smile on his face. She'd laughed with joy every time he'd come out of a fight unscathed, every time he gained something. She'd gone to bed for a smile every night he was still alive, and had wept bitter tears as the boy stepped into the fire and was swallowed up. It had been so hard to believe he was dead. How could she. She'd known him all her life. He had been a huge beacon of flaming red in what was otherwise a depressingly grey existence. The one thing that had made her life at all worth living.

Ash had, as far she was concerned, died a hero.

He had been cremated, just like he would have wanted. The family had gone to see them bury the wax reconstructions, but she couldn't bring herself to. Ash never would have wanted to be buried. The cold hard earth wasn't his thing. Fire was. It always had been. Maybe that was why she had come to his firework shed, not the funeral. She wanted to remember the real Ash. The Ash she loved. The loser. The retard. The pyro.

Pyro. That was what they had called him and that was the name that had stuck, an insult that gained such weight that the boy would be called nothing else, prefering his title of 'Pyro' over everything else. It stuck to him like glue. It grew on him. It became him until that was all he was, all he wanted to be.

'Not Ash. Pyro.'

She shivers as she remembers the first time she heard him say that. It was a year after the accident. Back when she was ten and Ash had been eleven. When the grim future that awaited them was a world away, and Ash was still reeling from the death of his sister, Holly.

Holly. The girl spits, knocking a firework off its stand and rubbing her eyes as she tries to push back tears. Ash's oldest sister. The family had been so sad when she'd died. Everyone had turned up at Holly's funeral. They'd wept and bawled and poured their regrets onto the coffin. And now Ash was dead? They'd gone to the funeral but, as far as she had heard, not a person in the District had even talked about the boy! They were all too interested by Ms Kayton Roys, the girl who had thrown all of District Seven into turmoil. Precious little Kayton Roys. The new golden girl of District Seven. The one who got all the fame, all the love, all the sponsorship and all the while Ash lay forgotten, eeking out his supplies from some kid from eleven whose neck he could break as easy as he could start a fire.

They all cared about that stupid little kid, and none of them remembered Ash. Her Ash.

They'd been each others supports since the day of the accident. He'd cried on her shoulder, she'd cried on his. They'd supported each other. They made each other laugh. They needed each other, no matter what anyone thought.

They'd always needed each other. It was natural that they stick together. When they were young he'd been the gentle giant, the idiot, the one who no one ever took seriously because he never did anything. He was fragile. His mind was sick. And she was always the quiet girl in the shadows. The wallflower. The nerd. Most people never even learnt her name. She was sort of pretty apparently, but that didn't matter to her. She had Ash and her parents and there wasn't anyone else she wanted.

And then something went wrong. Ash's big sis took him into the woods to see the nature. She thought it would help his mind or something. Something had happened. Something big. She wasn't quite sure what, actually. All she knew was that there'd been a fire, a horrible, horrible fire. People rushed to the fire station and doused the blaze as quickly as they could but, by the time the flames had been reduced to ash and smoldering wreckage, the damage had already been done. Almost half the forest had burnt down but, amazingly, only one person had died. The smoldering form of Holly Vernon lay tangled in the branches of a high tree up which she had climbed, her brother holding her in his arms. His eyes full of terror, his mouth stuck in a horrific grin, repeating over and over that it was all his fault. It had taken weeks for him to say anything else, and by that time he wasn't Ash. He hated Ash.

'Not Ash. Pyro.'

Tears roll down the girls face as she runs her hand across a long rocket, trying to cope with the memories of the loss. Trying to forget the weeks that she had spent soothing the huge redhead, trying to convince him it was an accident, that he hadn't done it, that nobody blamed him. It was untrue. Everyone blamed him. Everyone but her. She could never have blamed Ash. Her Ash. She helped him through it all, she listened to his ramblings. She consoled him. She loved him.

She had hoped that, some day, they could be married. She had never told anyone about that. Not even her mother and father. She knew what they would have done. They would have laughed. They would have told her it was a stupid dream, that it would never work. Pyro was, literally, insane, they would tell her. The fire starter and the wallflower? It would never work.

They were wrong. Pyro wasn't some sort of monster. He never had been. He had just been different, like her. Sure his differences were more destructive than her, but all he'd ever needed was help to show him that what he was doing was stupid, and then everything would have be okay. Everything would have worked out.

But they didn't work out, did they? Ash was dead, he'd burnt. The final eight had been selected, and now those lucky eight would fight each other to death in Twelve colleseums, each one created by a Victor. The girl gives a whimper as she pulls herself out of her dreams, facing the reality of the situation.

Her Ash is dead and no one gives a damn. There will be no wedding, just a funeral. She forces a smile, but that doesn't matter does it? They can still meet again. They can still be together in death. Then they'll have all the time in the world to be together.

She reaches up to her neck, ripping off the locket that she wears there and casting it to the ground, before walking over to the shed door and pulling it shut, so that no one else will get hurt. Not that anyone will.

It's a shed in the middle of a forest. Who would even think to come near it? She's the only living person left who knows where it is. Well, not for long anyway.

Soon everyone will know where Ash's firework factory is, but by then it will be nothing but a desecrated wreckage, wafting away on the wind amongst burning trees.

It has been seven years since the last great fire in District Seven. The one that killed Holly.

It's time for another fire.

She inspects the rows of homemade explosive in front of her, memories of Ash's noble death spinning in her head, tears dancing in her eyes.

The girl smiles.

She lights the match...


	40. Day 5: Bobbing for apples

A/N: A belated Happy New Year ya'll, welcome to another chapter. I'd once again like to take this opportunity to plug the twenty four authors fic I am writing for, which is the reason I haven't been updating recently. It's called Tears of Blood. I write the District Ten male, Boston Williams. I'd be honoured if any of you decided to check it out.

Anyway, I hope you're all enjoying the fic so far as we enter the very final stages of these Games. I plan on Day 5 being the final day, and hope you enjoy finding out who will be victorious!

* * *

**The Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day Five**

The air leaves Kayton's lungs as yet another rock collides with her head, jerking her awake. Pain vibrates through her body, shaking her brain in her skull and arching her back. She pants for breath as her head is forced, yet again, into the melee of swirling currents. Her mouth fills with water, her eyes bulge, her body thrashes for safety, slamming against the wall again and again and grazing her hands as she reaches for safety. Her axe swings at her belt, slashing into her leg as its ties unbind and it is finally hefted away into the currents. Next to her Georia bends and twists like a leaf caught in an updraft, her leg connecting with a rock with a sickening crunch and her head twisting round, as the sticklike girl attempts to remain conscious, her eyelids fluttering in pain, tears streaking down her face. The axe twists out of nowhere, slashing at Georia's arm and missing by the barest of inches, before spinning away into the distance, a solitary glint in the ever flowing tide.

Kayton gasps for breath as she once again breaks the surface, water running down her face and blurring her vision. She spins around in the current, thrashing out with her legs and arms as she tries to stay afloat. Her eyes flit around, seeking salvation from some, unknown force.

Finally she spots it, through the haze of tears and the rushing water, a single flat surface. A place where the cave wall slopes down to a narrow shelf.

"_Gee, isn't that convenient. Almost like someone wants at least one of these girls to survive just a little bit longer. Hmm, wonder who that could be?"_

Kayton swims towards it as quickly as she can, using the strokes the coach in the Training room taught her she battles through the waves. They grip to her, tugging at the dark fur of her coat and dragging her back. It's a nice coat, better than anything she'd ever see in District Seven. It's warm and has kept her for as long as the storm lasted the previous day, or maybe the day before. She had hoped to keep it if she lived through this, and take it home as a memento of the battle she fought and won to prove to her heartless mother that she wasn't weak. That she had won the woman's stupid little Games and come back better off than she had started, with something that even the richest woman in the District couldn't afford. It would be a shame to let such a nice piece of material go. She'd have nothing to show the monster who married their District's mayor what a fool she'd been without her coat. Nothing except her scars, and scars didn't prove anything.

But none of that matters now. If she wants to survive, the girl realises, there's no way she'll be able to survive with such a heavy shroud gripping her. With one last, wistful look, she lets the coat go, watching as it speeds away from her, open like some monstrous mouth, to the same grave that the axe has gone.

The girl turns, hacking at the waves with her hands. Crawling and pushing and slashing at every wave, pressing onwards through every crest. Her hair flies in her eyes as the water swirls up around her but she keeps on struggling. Her arms twist awkwardly as a jagged rock hits it and she cries out, before biting back the pain before another wave crashes over her head. She emerges, battered and bruised, but still fighting, still struggling to reach the slope where she knows she will be safe.

With one final, juddering push she reaches out for the slope, gripping it and holding on for dear life. She grits her teeth as the water pulls on her, preparing to weather the tides. Her hand begins to slip down the slope but she is determined. She will not be stopped. She cannot be stopped. She can't die.

And then, without warning, the storm stops.

The tides fall and the raging currents tumble back down. The water, and whatever foul creatures that inhabit it, ebbs away, drifting through cracks in the glittering wall of perfectly formed rocks until nothing is left but the occasional pool and the two girls, greedily clinging to each, solitary breath and praying that it isn't their last. As the water flows away their kicking slowly subsides and they sink onto the floor, lying there and watching their own chests rise and fall, counting the breaths.

They lie still for several minutes like this, with Claudius using the time to make comments about how exciting their struggle with the tempest was and graciously allowing Caesar to get a word in edgeways with the occaisional interview. Neither of them hear this of course, too preoccupied with their own thoughts to care.

There's a passage just above them, leading up and out of the cave. It's well lit and not to steep, either of them could crawl up it at a moments notice and escape the evil dungeon. But they don't. They lie there and wait to die, exhausted.

After about five minutes, Kayton finally speaks.

"You know," She gasps, "I really thought I was going to die there." Georia nods slowly, letting the words sink in, before speaking.

"So did I." She groans, "I think it might be better if I had." Kayton looks at her.

"What do you mean?"

"Died." The girl sighs, spluttering up a little water, laced with a small amount of blood, "Rather than lie here and wait for you to kill me."

"Kill you?" Kayton shouts, pulling herself up onto her elbows. She sounds startled, but Georia is sure she isn't. She set up that alliance after all. The one all the weak links had been in. She'd used Trent, she could see it now. He was just another pawn in her plan to gather them all together, to make sure that she had people to protect her and, when the time came, who could be killed easily as they slept.

"Oh please!" Georia laughs, struggling to breath, "You're planning to kill me. You've always been planning it! What, you think we can both just get out of here alive if we're lucky? You're cleverer than that, I know you are. You're thinking of killing me right now! Aren't you?"

"What are you tal..."

"I said aren't you!" The albino girl launches herself with her hands, gripping at her slingshot as she gets closer and closer. She crawls on her stomach, her legs sprawled uselessly behind her. Kayton squeaks, backing up the slope as quickly as she can on her hands and feet. She crawls backwards, keeping her eyes on the maddened girl as she goes. She rises to her feet and, with a shriek, the girl lunges, gripping her leg and clinging on as tightly as she can.

"_Catfight!" _Claudius bellows from the stands, destroying any tension that the moment may have had for the Capitol audience and quickly replacing it with rioutous cheering.

Georia reaches forward with her other hand, slamming the slingshot into the back of the younger girl's leg and toppling it on top of her. The thirteen year old cries out as she topples, but Georia shows no remorse, crawling on top of her as quickly as she can, her scarred and broken legs lying uselessly on the girl's stomach and pressing the air out of her. Georia raises her slingshot like a club, bringing it down on Kayton's head again and again, bruising the redheads face and streaking it with blood. She snarls, gritting her teeth together and raising the slingshot high again, bringing it down on Kayton's neck and stopping the flow of any air. The other girl chokes and gags, thrashing out wildly with her limbs for something that will stop Georia, she grips the pale teen's leg.

Georia's body tenses in pain as soft, new scar tissue meets hard, cold fingers, shriveled with the cold. She howls in pain as her entire body convulses and falls backwards, allowing Kayton to struggle out from under her and push her onto her back. With surprising agility for someone with no working legs, Georia flips onto her front, pulling forwards and digging her teeth into Kayton's leg as the girl rises, causing blood to flow down her leg. The little girl roars in pain, lashing out with her other leg and catching Georia straight in the face. The older girl rolls down the slope. Her elbow hits a jagged rock hard and something breaks, twisting her hand round awkwardly and causing a small squeak of pain to exit her mouth. She tries to rise on her single arm, but fails, tumbling further down the slope, splashing into a puddle face first and lying still. Her hair is matted with blood and falls in her eyes, her arms and legs twitch and convulse. A few bubbles rise from the puddle and pop.

Kayton turns, tears in her eyes, and runs for the light, her hands over her ears so she can hear nothing but the sound of her screams. No ongoing narration, no cannons firing for the older girl who lies broken and battered at the bottom of that slope.

Nothing but her own fear.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

* * *

The kama comes arcing down and Lenox leaps backwards, surprising her self for the hundredth time in about as many seconds with just how agile she could be when her life depended on it. Not that her life hadn't depended on it earlier, but back then she'd had allies, first Scratch and the District One floozy then that crazy behemoth from District Seven. None of them had really done anything to help her and now, just at the very point were they could have done something useful, the morons are all dead. Just her luck.

Her opponent, however, didn't seem to be having any difficulty traversing the arena in which they found themselves, and was having even less trouble with rotten luck.

Despite the eye he was obviously lacking, Irre wasn't exactly a pushover. He was a Career after all, and a mad one at that. On top of that someone had thought it would be a great idea to put the lunk head in a room full of weapons and watch her duke it out with some poor, unfortunate tribute.

That was all well and good, Lenox thinks as she twists out the way of another twirling kama and slams her foot into Irre's stomach, winding him, but why did she have to be that poor, unfortunate tribute.

Irre grits his teeth, sliding backwards towards one of the weapons racks and drawing a rather long, serrated dagger, which he flings through the air. The girl dodges with nothing but a cut to the shoulder and Irre fumes, sending a spear at her as well. Of all the girls to fight, he had to pick the freak who thought she was a champion athlete. Big whoop. All he knows is that the idiot girl doesn't want to fall down, and that could be a massive problem.

At the other end of the Arena the girl somehow manages to dodge the arrow, and it speeds into the forcefield, exploding spectacularly and taking out the wig of a high class gentleman who payed an inordinately high price to sit in the front row. The man beams from ear to ear and the crowd booms out a cheer as Irre grabs a curved dagger and taps off the ground, hurtling towards Lenox with the weapon raised high. The girl swings out the way and Irre snarls, flicking back his wrist and sending the dagger speeding round past the back of his head. The girl gasps as the blade strikes her in the back, causing her to fall to the ground. Irre waits, expecting a cannon. None fires and he snarls, ripping his second kama from his belt and spinning round, slightly too slowly to avoid the knife, which he had lodged in the silly girl's back, from arching out of the sky and cutting across the back of his head. The cyclops roars in pain and lashes out, the blunt end of his kama connecting with the girl's face and sending her backwards, the knife flying.

Lenox lies there for a few seconds, sprawled out as Irre approaches, her head aching painfully, before springing to her feet and gripping a row shuriken from the rack and flinging them, all at once, at the boy. Despite her lack of knowledge regarding the weapon, a few of the weird instruments hit, digging into Irre's chest and spraying blood on the ground. The beast snarls, hindered only slightly by the weapons that protude from his chest as he clears the distance between himself and Lenox and lifts her from the floor. She raises a sword at him, trying to lop his head off, but he easily bats it away with the side of his kama and twists the weapon around the offending arm, digging in so deeply that the girl's blood stains the sharp blade. She cries abuse at him but, before she can finish her first expletive, he has slammed her into the ground face first, holding one kama to her throat and the other to her wrist, stopping the blood from flowing out of the deep wound.

"_Good thing he stopped her there." _Caesar comments from the stands, turning away from Zard Frezal, who is busy signing autographs, _"What with this girl and Zus we'll run out of censors soon!"_ Zard laughs behind him, mentioning something about his Games, before going back to his fans.

"How'd you want it then?" Irre smiles, pushing the kama to Lenox's throat, "Slow or real slow. Slow I cut your throat and your wrist, let you bleed it out. Real slow, I punch a few holes, maybe chop off your feet so you can't go nowhere, then kick you to death. how's that sound."

The muffled noise that emminates from Lenox's mouth does not sound at all pleasant.

"Why am I doing this? Sure, I'll tell ya, Lenny. You're District partner, ol' Scratchy, yeah. He killed my District partner and my Career buddy, Verain. I was the one who was supposed to do that! It weren't fun, see, to do that. Real dick move. So now I run out of girlies to kill and I'm thinking I'm gonna have to go home with only one dead dance partner and a missing eye and then, who do I find? Little Lenny! Yeah, thought I didn't notice you all those times? Back in the training room and in that forest with that big crazy ginger. Yeah, well I did. And then I see you in with those Fish and I get a thinking. I say to myself 'Hey Irre, that's ol' Lenny. Think she's up for a dance?' An then I say, 'Yeah, why not? Get revenge on her for ol' Scratch, eh?'"

He closes his eyes for a couple of seconds, as though deep in thought, "I think you'd enjoy real slow, gives you more chance to fight back huh? Cos that's what your thinking of doing now right, fighting back?"

The girl whimpers something that Scratch doesn't here, and he grins, raising her up by her hair and whispering in her ear, "What did ya say, beautiful?" Lenox smiles, unballing her free hand and revealing a hand full of hard, sharp pebbles.

"Yeah," She mutters, "I'm planning something." She twists her wrist and the pebbles go flying, blinding Irre for just enough time for Lenox to role out from under him, rip a shuriken from his chest and fling it directly at his forehead. Irre collapses in pain and Lenox flees, cupping her hand in her wrist so that the blood does not spurt out.

A few minutes later, Irre raises his head. Blood and sand sticks to his face and his chest is bleeding. Not heavily, the girl doesn't throw hard enough for either wounds to be too deep, but their painful, and she broke the skin, and that makes Irre mad.

_'-Der'_ Caesar corrects, _'It makes Irre madder.'_

Irre stumbles around the Arena, near blind. He sniffs after the girl, listens for her breathing, her footsteps, anything that could give her away. He screams at the sky and storms back and forth, throwing every weapon he can lay his hands on and crushing every stone.

It takes until the blood dries over his eyelids and he rips it from them, along with several eyelashes, that he realises what's happened. Lenox isn't there anymore. She has fled the Arena.

Irre grins widely, anticipating the chase as he retrieves his kamas and begins to follow the trail of blood that leads out of the Arena's north exit.

As he leaves he casually wonders whether anyone else is having this much trouble.


	41. Day 5: No way back

A/N: And on with the Games. For those of you still reading this you'll be glad to here that this fic will be over pretty soon. I'm afraid that, what with my work on 24tributes24authors fic and my new Hunger Games now being well under way, I'm not finding as much time for this fic as I think it deserves. On top of that, when I started this fic I had no idea how hard it was to write in the third person present! Seriously, if you read some of my older chapters there are some really stupid tense errors in there.

Worry not though, this fic will be finished and the pre-planned DTS's will be written, but just don't expect regular updates, as I'm a bit overloaded at the moment. Sorry about that.

I also feel like I've spent a bit too much time on Kayton and Georia at the moment as well so after this chapter expect them to disappear a bit.

On a brighter note, don't forget to vote on my poll, I'd really like your input, especially considering most of the people who submitted tributes to this fic submitted to the other one as well!

* * *

**The Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day Five**

Zitheneals Denair pours himself another drink as he surveys the eight screens laid out infront of him. He's been watching them for hours. Almost for the entire day in fact. It stopped being interesting hours ago and now, now it is just boring. To make matters worse he is alone. Everyone who had been watching it with him, all the Gamesmakers and the Escorts and the mentors have been gone fot hours, which means no one to talk to. Even if there were anyone with him, he muses, it would do little to improve his mood.

He takes a sip of the foul smelling, freezing cold concoction at the bottom of his glass. It tastes like cough medcine and it appears to bubbling. And it's purple. He stretches his face and wipes his mouth on his sleeve before returning it to the table and giving a sigh. He hates this drink. It's not even a drink in fact, it's burn medcine that someone tried to make seem like a drink. Whoever they are, Denair thinks as he swallows more of the disgusting liquid, they have failed. He chuckles slightly. The liquid doesn't matter though, what matters is the Games, and the Games are nothing to worry about.

Of course not one of the final eight has died yet, but they always last longer than your average tributes. They're the survivors after all. And besides, the deaths weren't the main thing. The humour was far more interesting. Watching the District Nine teen, woken by a small, nippy mutt clamping onto his ankle was hilarious. The sight of the same boy flying down the corridor, leaping over a fellow tribute and literally falling into Colleseum Nine was just the icing on the cake. And such a fitting place for the District Nine male as well. Lenox Carter fleeing out of Colleseum One and into Four before it was supposed to be open had been a surprise, but Zenair had dealt with it very well, in his own opinion. He'd pressed the door release and now she's in there, hopping from one little island to another over the water below as she searches for a weapon. Pebbles won't work a second time of course and she's only just managed to cut of the bleeding from her wrist with a dirty piece of clothing ripped from her shorts. If she's not careful, Denair thinks, she'll be the next one dead. Not that he hasn't given her every possible chance. He unlocked the door after all, what more could anyone ask for?

_'A free trip out of the Games?'_

Denair smiles slightly. It had been a good idea to unlock that door for her. Made it more exciting.

It had been a good idea to ask the mentors to create the Games this year as well. It gave Denair a nice long break and kept the crowds pleased, not to mention that obnoxious commentator whose family had been doing the Games back when Denair was born, even if it didn't lead to a particularly focused Games. To make matters better he hadn't even had to ask them for their help. The foolish little girl from Three, Kyte Luch, had got talking with him one afternoon while he was planning the Games. She had smelt of drink, which had been a surprise, since she was terrified of the stuff, but considering the other mentors it hadn't been too unusual. To make a very long and very infuriating story short they had got talking and, by the end of it all, he had been left with the distinct impression that Luch was a complete basket case and had recruited twelve mentors to his cause, each with varying degrees of willingness. Well, eleven mentors to be exact but it was still a fresh, fantastic achievement. District Twelve had been the only District where he had had to improvise. Mr Abernathy, after all, would not have been the best choice. He is, after all, a doddery, drunken, wrinkled old fool who is likely to choke on his vomit at some point in the, hopefully near, future and, with no other surviving Victor's other than some kid who had lost his marbles years ago, Denair had been forced to create Colleseum Twelve himself. Fortunately, Denair had not been made Head Gamesmaker for nothing. Well, the only reason he had been made Gamesmaker because he was the son of the Minister of Peacekeeping under Coin but he had always liked to believe that it was to do with the fact that he had had first hand experience of the Games. It was where he had got the scars that currently stretch down his throat, almost to his stomach. All of that experience had been used to make sure that Colleseum Twelve is superb, a real marvel of modern technology and a fitting end for the final stretch of the Games. He is rightly pleased by his efforts.

Right now nothing exactly interesting or funny is happening though. Denair watches the girl from Eight gradually crawl up to Colleseum Four. It's painfully boring but Denair sees it as his duty to sit through it. It seems like it's going somewhere after all.

Everything is going somewhere.

Everything is going to plan.

Perfectly to plan.

The whole Games have been building up to this point. The timelines, the Mutts, everything had been specially made, specially planned for these last few hours. They had made a four tiered Arena specifically for it. Time travel? No! It had been a simple matter to knock out the tributes for a time and then have them moved to the floor directly above them for the next stage of the plan. The tributes and the people could think what they want but, at the end of the day, they weren't the ones who had had to make the Games. It had been a clever solution to the impossible idea that Kai Keoloha had created and demanded be done. Denair snarls as he thinks of the infuriating young girl. Victors have no idea just how tough his job actually is!

What some child doesn't realise though doesn't matter to him though. He stretches again, draining a glass of a slightly more delectable drink, rich red wine, without a second thought for what the stuff will do to the burns that line his throat. It's a bad choice and it sends him spluttering and gasping for the box of pills that sit next to his glass. He swallows as many as he can before draining the glass of purple mixture.

_'Remember kids, don't do what you see this man here doing. He is a trained professional who does this sort of stuff for a living, you are not. Besides, his pills are (probably) non lethal. The ones at the top of daddy's shelf probably aren't. We don't know. Don't run the risk.'_

Nothing matters to him at all anymore except for the Games. But it hadn't always been that way. Back when he was a child he had never watched the Games. He _had_ thought them to be sick. He _had_ avoided them at all costs and, while he had appreciated the break from school, he _had_ wanted nothing else to do with them. It had been his greatest embarassment that his father had been partially responsible for the deaths of one thousand seven hundred and twenty five children and he had absolutely refused to talk to his father about it. They'd argued over the issue many a time before the Districts killed him. They had him executed and dragged Denair away. They threw him in a pit with nothing but the name Denair left to never even thought that he might have supported them. That he might have been just as sickened by the Games as they were. None of that even came close to crossing their minds.

The Games are all he has. The Games are his one chance for vengeance. His one chance to get back at the Districts for sending him on those stupid 'Repentence Games' things. It had been pointless. He hadn't repented, he had nothing to repent for. It had been his father who had condemned all those children to death, not him. Well, he had said to himself when he had finally crawled out of that pit, the blood of that little Snow girl still stained across his face, if they want you to kill District children, then you shall kill District children. You shall kill thousands. And maybe then they will have a reason to have you, and all of those innocent children, to death. He had been the first. There had been three other children who had come out of those Games out of ninety six who went in. All of them had been innocent. All of them had been chosen by the Districts. Every person got a vote, even Miss Everdeen and her disgusting partner. There was no chance to it, there was no luck. There were no volunteers. It was a disgusting practice that he had pledged, when he was made Gamesmaker after twenty five years of living under District tyranny, that he would always give the cowards at least the chance to volunteer. That way, when their friends were sent off to die just like he had been, that it was their fault for not being brave. The only people they had to hate were themselves.

_'Of course, it makes perfect sense.'_

People often told him that he was insane. It never fazed him, it still doesn't now, as he sits heavily in his chair watching eight children scurry around in the Colleseums and the tunnels. They were the ones who gave him his first taste of blood, who stopped him from caring about the lives he took. Their fathers and their grandfathers and their great grandfathers had forced him to kill for their sick pleasure. They had tainted his mind and made him sick. They had burnt his throat roar and almost killed him with their little puppets. The son of the Surgeon General and the daughter of a senator had been their first weapons. He'd sent both of them over a cliff. One impaled on a spike the other gutted completely. They had used an accute nerve poison to try and gas their most disgusting tribute to his death. That was clearly never going to work, Denair thinks as he rubs his throat, although it did kill another two boys. He had asthma. His breaths hadn't been deep enough for the poison to kill him. At least that was the story he always told himself, truth be told it had probably more to do with the fact he'd taken to wearing a battered old gas mask that he'd found near the Cornucopia. It hadn't been much use but he wasn't going to pass it up. Not when the Arena looked like a warzone. He knew he'd need it. After that he was running on adreneline. The only thing that had kept him alive in there was the knowledge that maybe, some day, he would kill enough District children to make it all alright. To justify the Repentence Games.

He hasn't killed enough yet, not nearly enough to justify what they had made him do to those twenty three innocent Capitol children. He pours himself another cup of purple liquid and chuckles. The only thing that keeps him watching is the hope that they might die. The hope that today he might manage it. He might manage to kill enough of them to make it all worth it.

Because today it ends.

Today they find a victor.

They can't last forever.

* * *

Kayton stares around her as she breaks into the light, her hands still pressed over her ears, her eyes filled with tears. The world blurs and stumbles. Colours and shapes mingle. For a second everything is horribly, blindingly white. Then the tears clear and the horror of what she is about to face finally hits her. Everything is horribly white. Snow blows in her face in little clumps and behind her screens, each holding the face of a viewer, some fool who managed to get a ticket to see the Games.

_'Hey, we gotta make money somehow!'_

Looking up Kayton can see, high above her, a dome like forcefield that stretches over the entire Colleseum. A single figure, a weird looking thin guy in really odd clothing stands above her, staring down. He smiles at her, giving her a cheery wave before pointing to something over to her left. Something just out of sight.

It happens before Kayton can tell what 'it' is. Something surges out over the small hill of snow and smashes her in the face, sending her sprawling back into the freezing mush. She gasps, getting to her feet about as quickly as she can, which is very slowly when you're lying in freezing cold snow after you've just been swimming for your life or fighting some crazy girl.

Unsurprisingly the whatever reaches her before she can stand and lifts her from her feet, flinging her bodily over the snowy hill and watching gleefully as she lands in the snow.

"Well, well," The tall blonde snickers as he pushes through the snow, his coat matted white, a short, curved sword gripped in his pale, gloved hand. "What do you think of th-the glovesh?" The boy grins, a high pitched laugh clinging to the edge of his lips. He looks like some old kossak, his fur coat whipping around him in the storm. The District Five mentor above them claps his approval, a thin smile cut onto his face as he regards the boy. Finally, something to take his mind off of all those boring, fasionless Capitolites.

Kayton tries to stand again, but Blake grips her, kicking her again and watching as the air leaves her lungs. He chuckles, stepping closer and raising his sword.

"Congratulationsh Kayton Roysh," he sneers, and as he speaks his stutter and lisp both vanish as if they had never existed.

_'Which they hadn't. Sorry girls but Mr Kaitz isn't quite the sweet young thing you took him for.'_

"You're the youngest surviving tribute in the Games? Prepare yourself, your about to become the youngest corpse." Kayton squeezes her eyes tightly shut. It can't end this way, it just can't. She'd come so far. She'd fought so hard. She'd seen so many horrors. And now this Blake Kaitz thinks he can just waltz in at the last second and steal her final breaths? Well it won't happen! She will not stand for it! She can't lose now!

With a shriek she launches herself straight at him, just as his sword begins to arc down. He twirls lazily out of the way, watching as she flies past him and lands in the deep snow. But she will not be outdone! In a matter of seconds she is on her feet, adreneline pumping through her body in a way she has never felt before. She reaches out, grabbing him by the collar before he has time to react. He doesn't look fazed. He doesn't need to. He's taller than her and he's armed. He smiles lazily as he regards her face, filled with fury, and prepares himself for an easy escape. His sword slips forwards, cutting a small thin groove into her leg as he prepares to raise his sword and finish this stupid, stupid little girl. He smiles, raising his sword up from her leg, pulling it above his head and preparing to sever hers. Seeing the error of her ways, the girl turns, letting go of him and falls backwards, her arm pushing into the snow up to the elbow. Something isn't right about how far the arm sinks in but, before Blake can realize what it is, the hammer has already collided with his face.

Hollow. The snow banks are hollow.

_'And filled with weapons!'_

Kayton spins on her feet, the small hammer arching down into Blake's back and knocking the wind out of him. Before she can gain any sort of advantage however, the creep has recovered and is easily batting every blow she sends at him out of the way. She snarls, spinning the hammer up towards his chin but he steps back, letting it miss before slamming her around the face with the side of his blade.

Armed or not, the boy is still a significantly better fighter than she is, which counts against her greatly.

And to make matters worse he isn't fighting her. He's playing around. Every move he pulls is designed to hurt, not to kill, it's designed to set her off her balance and make her weak. So that each move he does can get her a little closer to death, but not quite close enough to let her die.

"So," Blake grins as he lashes out again, cutting her face and toppling her backwards before lazily scooping up her hammer, "Good game. Do I win yet?"

Kayton shakes her head in a fury, leaping to her feet and clawing at him, but he smiles, twirling the tiny hammer around his fist and straight into her face, before smacking her legs out from under her with the blunted side of his curved blade. She falls to her knees and he takes a step away from her, twirling the hammer around his hand all the while, before releasing the blunt metal implement. He watches as it sails through the air, climbing higher and higher as it speeds in Kayton's direction. For a moment it stops, twisting and turning, before plummeting downwards and into the girl's back. She cries out in pain and Blake's face twists into a smile. It's nice for him to see her crawl. To see someone who was once so powerful, who could have been daughter of the mayor things had gone differently on her knees, her eyes filled with tears as she tries to escape him. The orphan, the beggar, the wuss, that was him, it always had been. They had laughed, they had beat him and all the while he had starved. Who was laughing now? Who was laughing now?

Blake takes a step forwards, trying to make sure not to let the moment get to him. He should stay calm. Getting carried away will mean that everything here was done for nothing.

The swords surges down and, as it does, something else flies out of nowhere, colliding with Blake's chest and knocking him backwards. The tall boy topples, falling directly into the heap of snow that sits behind him. He sinks into it, feeling the layer of floor that he had originally come over passing over his head as he topples under it, into a cleverly concealed heap of dangerous, pointy weapons. Blake winces as something pierces his chest. If he were thinking clearly, he would probably realise it is a spear, but he isn't thinking clearly. His eyes are filled with rage, his bloody mouth chokes on curses.

He has just been bested for the second time. It isn't a nice feeling. And, this time, it isn't even someone clever who has beaten him. It's some girl. Some stupid little girl. Some stupid prissy little idiot who has no right to win. Not like Hart. He would have lost to Hart gladly. Hart had been a worthy opponent. This girl had just been lucky.

Blake's curses quickly die away, but they fill the air long after he breaths his last breath.

The mentor up on the top of the Colleseum smiles slightly. That was just how he had won his own Games. Except for the fact he had used a cannon of course, but it was close enough.

A few minutes later Kayton regains conciousness. She hacks and coughs on the floor for a few moment, vomits a little and then stands to her feet, wobbly and unsure.

There are only a few things she can tell.

She can tell that she's still alive, she hurts too much to be dead. She knows that something's happened to her spine. It doesn't feel right, it feels like her legs shouldn't be moving. Her arm is heavy and painful to lift and her neck is killing her. Not as much as Blake's neck though, there appears to be a dagger through it.

He's lying nect to where she had been, his face contorted with rage, his sword lying by her feet. Slowly, painfully, she bends down and lifts the weapon. She has a feeling she'll need it later, especially seeing how she can't use a hammer to save her life.

_'As she has just proved.'_

The questions that remain however are pressing ones. Where to head next. How to survive the next few hours and, the most pressing of all, who was it who had saved her.

That particular question is answered by a soft coughing sound, which draws Kayton's attention. It sounds kind of like she did when she had first awoken, only it isn't stopping, so she goes over to it and peers down, expecting to see anyone other than who she actually sees.

Georia Hanel.

The girl is a state. Her white hair is a mess of mud and dirt, her face is streaked with blood and tears and neither of her legs seem to be working. Her left arm hangs at her side and, while it does seem to work, every twitch it makes causes a soft moan as the arm twinges in agony. She is resting on a single remaining arm, trying to stand. This arm also clutches tightly to a small slingshot and a group of tiny rocks which she has gathered from the bottom of the slope. Seeing Kayton walking towards her the girl begins to fumble with her slingshot, trying to load another rock into it with her injured hand. The weapon is far from lethal, Kayton realises, it was just luck that Blake hadn't been expecting it when it hit. Even then it wouldn't have killed him, if not for the weapons hidden in the snow behind him.

Kayton steps towards Georia before she can attack and gently rolls her over with her foot, even this causes the girl excrutiating pain as she looks up into the younger tribute's eyes.

"P-please," Georia wimpers, "I-I didn't know!"

"I know you didn't." Kayton says, drawing the sword up above her head.

"I-I-I heard you fighting and I-I thought..."

"I know."

"I-I," Georia's eyes flit around. She looks to the left, to the right. Anywhere but at the sword that hovers over her, "I wa-wasn't aiming for him..."

There's a long, dark silence.

"I know." Kayton smiles, her foot colliding with Georia's head. The other girl's eyes close as she loses conciousness. It wouldn't do for her saviour to die in agony. It needs to be gentle. "Thank you."

Blake's sword hits the floor and Georia Hanel's head follows soon after.

* * *

**The Final Six:**

Kate Ryal (D3)

Kayton Roys (D7)

Lenox Carter (D11)

Irre Massenhaft (D1)

Zus Ryaov (D9)

Trent Flee (10)


	42. Day 5: Drowning

A/N: Day Five part Five. Just over forty chapters and we're finally almost done. It's been a joy writing this, even if A Levels are giving me less and less time to actually write chapters.

This chapter I plan to focus a bit more on the survivors of two of the previous big alliances, Kate Ryal and Trent Flee. I'm going to be focusing more on the way that arguably the most intelligent tributes left in the Arena think, since they haven't been focused on much at all in the fic so far, which I think is a shame. It's something I've been planning for a while but couldn't quite find a place to put it, so I hope you guys enjoy it.

For those of you wondering about the next Dead Tributes Society, I plan to put those at the very end, right after the Victor has been declared, so you know what might have been.

* * *

**The Ninety Fourth Hunger Games**

**Day Five**

"I know what's going on..."

Trent Flee gasps as he plunges through the tangled mass of fabrics and cloths that fill Colleseum Eight. He gulps for air as another wrack of the stuff is pulled over by his frantic movements, squeezing the oxygen from his lungs as the fabrics spin and twirl, sticking to him like fly paper. Every movement, every frantic attempt to free a limb or escape from the twisting mess simply drags more of the sticky, strangling stuff onto him, pulling him down under the sea of sewing. Colleseum Eight. Made by Sevdad Kerin, the emotionless giant from the weaver's District. It makes sense that he's the one who made his Colleseum a swamp, after all, it was the theme of the Arena the he won. Slightly more unexpected was the fact that the swamp had been made of wrack after wrack of clothing, pile after pile of fabric that had appeared solid until he had burst into the small clearing, at which point they had collapsed and the boy found himself in his current predicement.

The most unexpected part of it though was the fact that Sevdad Kerin had been allowed to make something like this at all. It seems, to Trent at least, pointless for the Mentors to be allowed to make their own little Mini-Arenas. He wouldn't have realised it himself if he hadn't caught sight of the giant figure of Kerin just before the ground gave out beneath him. He hadn't understood at first why the behemoth was there, leaning over the metal railing staring intently down at the scene, but fighting for his life had given Trent a lot of time to mull over the issue, and now he understood exactly what was going on in this hellhole.

"I know what they're planning..." He splutters, as the fabric begins to seal over his mouth, tangling in his matted hair and cutting off his voice. Not that anyone could have heard it before anyway, but, for Trent, that hardly mattered.

The box on the other hand, now that was far more perplexing. The unexplainable item that Georia had returned with after she had snuck away from the group a couple of mornings before. It made no sense, that was why he had taken it. He needed an answer for it. What was it. Had it been a sponsor? Who would sponsor her? Why would they send her something with apparently no use? A music box, at least by the look of it, had no purpose. What was it supposed to do for her, make her feel better about being stuck in the Games by reminding her of home? In practice the only people the box could help would be her enemies. The thing made more than enough noise to draw an enemy to one's position.

So it couldn't have been sent by a sponsor.

Trent rips the chest from his body, raising his arms above his head. More rags pull from the walls and grip his arms, sucking him down. They tangle around and around his arms, pulling him out into the center of the room. The cloth begins to wrap around his hands as he continues to ponder, gripping at the box. Their clockwise motions grind to a halt as his movement ceases, his brain continuing to tick.

Georia Hanel must have found the box.

But where? In the Cornucopia? It had sunk. Sunk and frozen over. There was no way the girl could have retrieved it from there. And there would be no reason for it to be just lying around.

Sure a tribute might have dropped it, before they died or something, but then why would she have picked it up. She would have to be an idiot to just pick up a music box because it looked pretty and, while Georia was many things, a coward and a weak, limping twig included, she was certainly not an idiot. She would never just pick up something that caught her eye.

So she couldn't have just found it.

Trent sighs as he begins to roll himself against the supple fingers of clothing that grip him. The fabric that has begun to claw his hands and throat is pressed back, too weak individually to fight the constant, consistent pressure Trent is applying to them. The weaker binds break, falling back and turning Trent's hunched form towards the exit. He smiles ever so slightly stretching out his freed arms and closing his eyes. Concentrate.

She couldn't have found and she couldn't have been sent it. So, as unlikely as it seems, Ms Hanel must have been given it.

But by who?

Trent gasps, pushing the offending box forwards and stretching out his fingers. The box tumbles across the squirming sea of threads, before coming to rest a mere few inches away from him. Trent's eyes open and his eyebrows raise in surprise. The room, he supposes, really isn't as big as he thought it was. He stretches out his fingers, gripping the solid, pastel coloured ground where the box has come to rest and slowly, ever so slowly so as not to entice more of the threads off of the wall and onto his skin, begins to drag himself out of the mesh.

So, he thinks as he lifts himself, his leg twisting awkwardly in its binds, but pulling through them before anything can be broken, who could have given the box to her?

It would be a token, of course, no one else would have taken such a thing with them.

But it most certainly wasn't one of her allies. From their appearance Kayton had never seen the box before, and Hype hadn't bought a music box, that much was certain. So it wasn't a member of their alliance. Maybe, then, Georia had been in another alliance. It would certainly explain her repeated attempts to ditch them.

"So..." Trent splutters as he drags himself from the fabric and onto the floor of the room, wheezing and gasping for breath, "Who could she be working for..."

_'Talking to himself,' _Claudius mutters, _'First sign of madness.'_

"Careers..." Trent gasps as he drags himself forward, attempting to untangle his leg from the flailing fabrics, "Has to be..." Who else would carry around a token that would draw attention to them? It either had to be a mental patient or a Career. Or both.

Trent nods in agreement with himself as his leg finally lurches out of the dark pool of twisted fabrics. He chuckles, ripping a few pieces of red satin, squirming like leeches, off of him and chucks them back into the marsh of material, which snaps them up before returning to its original form. It flattens again, looking less and less like the deadly trap in which he had been entwined moments before and more and more like a soft, red carpet. A few of the wracks of fabric have toppled over and, above him, he can hear a crowd cheering and Claudius Templesmith's voice shouting his name, but otherwise the scene is exactly as he found it. Quiet, peaceful. He should have guessed something was wrong with it.

He turns and sinks down against the wall, his hair falling in front of his eyes as he does so. He is vaguely aware of the fact that he's bleeding rather heavily as he retrieves his box and rests it on his lap.

Trent sighs deeply. Soon he'll head out. He'll find the original owner of the music box and maybe Georia Hanel, and he'll find out where this fascinating box came from. After that, he can set the mystery aside and win the Games.

But first, a nap would be nice.

* * *

Kate Ryal smiles, leaping another spinning axe as, above her, another cannon goes off. Only five tributes left to deal with, and then the Capitol will have it's Victor.

But to make sure she was that Victor, she'd have to work out who she would be facing. And that meant working out who had just died.

To start with there was her, she wasn't dead, so that left seven, Massenhaft, Kaitz, Hanel, Flee, Roys, Ryaov and Carter. She could safely assume that Neither of the Careers were among the dead and that Hanel was, so she crosses those two off the list. Next to be knocked off is Zus Ryaov, who had looked far too muscular and lethal before going into the Arena to be stopped by something like this. That is of course assuming he hadn't just got unlucky and was headless on the ground right now. So that just leaves Trent Flee, Lenox Carter and Kayton Roys. One of whom is dead. Kate assumes she'll find out pretty soon, when she faces and kills the other two.

All she has to do is make it through this arena of swirling death.

Another axe swings down as she steps on another cobblestone, and she twists out the way, wincing as it grazes her arm and accidently stumbling on a few more cobbles. More axes speed down from the walls and up from the floor, but Kate dodges every one, leaping over one axe, bouncing off of its flat and spinning backwards, away from another. More and more axes arc down as she makes her way ever onwards, shredding her clothing and slashing at her, but each one failing to land a decisive blow. She launches herself, eyes screwing up in concentration, for the exit, but gasps in surprise as an accidental trip on another stone sends a huge axe jutting out of the ground right infront of her, causing her to back pedal madly to avoid having her head wrenched from her shoulders.

She pants for breath as the axes withdraw and stands there, breathing heavily, in the middle of the colleseum. 'Which psycho made this thing?' Kate wonders as she prepares for another run for the exit. Whoever it is has certainly done a marvelous job.

_'This Colleseum,' _Claudius informs the audience, _'was made by the Victors of District Seven. Designed so that the slightest touch to one of the cobbles will trigger a blade of some form to fly from the wall or floor. Took a lot of effort to get all of those axes to flip up like that so that the tributes don't instantly know where they're coming from. Keeps the tributes on their toes. Hope ya appreciate the extra effort folks!'_

Kate Ryal most certainly does not appreciate the extra effort. Walking back as slowly as she can, making sure to dodge the cobbles she has already triggered, she waits for the axe in front of her to slip back into the ground. Then, tapping off from the ground with both feet, she throws herself forwards, straight over the offending cobblestone and the axe it was supposed to unleash.

Her knee brushes a single stone and a blade shoots up, slipping across her stomach and slicing it. She gasps in pain, before tumbling painfully to the ground and rolling over and over, finally landing awkwardly on the ground, her legs pushed up against her stomach, her arms spread out, panting heavily. Her eyes fill with tears as she gasps for breath, blood trickles down from the gash on her stomach and pooling on the saw dust strewn ground. The crowd, watching at home or in some expensive viewing box or even around her, having payed through the nose for their seats on the sidelines of the Colleseum, lean forwards, waiting with baited breath to see whether or not Kate has died.

Her body lies still.

Her eyes slowly close.

But she doesn't stop breathing.

After a time the blood stops, the pain diminishes and she pulls herself to her feet, gasping for breath, leaning heavily on the wall.

She's made it through. Just like she's made it through everything they've thrown at her.

Just like she'll make it through the other tributes. For she is going to make it through.

She will end their lives and she will do it so bitterly and so quickly, that they won't even know what hit them.

Kate grins, wobbling off of the wall and beginning to rush down the corridor, in search of her prey. As the boom of the crowd gradually dies away to a quiet murmur she is left with simply the sound of her own heavy breathing and her footfalls on the floor. In time other sounds begin to drift through the walls.

She hears the mad roars of Irre Massenhaft drifting through the walls, followed by the frantic screams of District Eleven's Lenox Carter. She guesses that means that the girl isn't dead, but she sounds like she's on her way out. Further down the corridor a mass of howled swears drift through as Zus Ryaov drags himself to his feet after his drop and begins to make his way to a door, only to be cut of by savage, clockwork creatures. Kate changes her course. As much as she knows she'll have to face him, she wants to leave Zus as long as she can. He gives her the creeps and she doesn't think she'd be able to get close enough to him without becoming a living pin cushion.

She turns down a corridor, listening as the sounds slowly drift away, a cold, dead feeling grips her as she comes to the end of a corridor, standing in a room with three entrances.

The place is clearly a Colleseum, the walls lined with baying crowds, a single man, a massive, gargoyle like figure standing at the top, glaring down, however it is much smaller than the one she had just escaped from. Red cloth clings to everything like spiders web, above her several huge wooden shelves coat the walls, which lead up to a similar red velvet roof, keeping the Colleseum enclosed. Doors lead off to other Colleseums above and every so often a Capitolite will break off, wandering into another one to watch the carnage, or simply grab a bite to eat. She sighs, turning her attention to the other two passageways that aren't the one she has come down. One passage leads back into the caves. A great gate having closed over it, presumably at the moment whoever it was who activated it got through it. She looks around, her eyes resting on an odd, grey and red blob lying near her. At first it looks like part of the fabric, covered in as much red as it is, but in time she realises what, or rather who, the object is.

Trent Flee. He lies there, eyes hidden by his hair, mouth open, as stiff and still as the fabric that clings to him. Cuts and bruises cover his frame, a little blood hangs from his mouth and a box is held tight around his stomach, as though he had been using it to fend something off. He looks as if he's been thrown. His neck is bent oddly and his items are scattered around him. She smiles, at least he will be one less person she has to kill.

She bends down, beginning to gather up the dead boy's scattered items. Her finger brushes against the fabric and it wraps around her, dragging her forwards. She trips, nearly plunging face first into the cloth before her, which begins to part and stir, whipping up at her. With a shout she pulls away, shivering as she clutches her bruised hand. She has to be more careful. She definitely has to be more careful.

A few more seconds pass as she begins to grip more and more of the boy's items. For one of the Games less able competitors, It doesn't seem that Flee was too badly armed. He had a little food, a few bits and bobs she can use as a weapon, it even looks to her like their might be a tent in this pile somewhere. Kate giggles like a schoolgirl, draping his thick coat across her as she finally finds something to cover her body with and begins to stuff the coat's pockets and his backpack with everything she can find. Cans clink and clatter as she searches Flee's things for anything that could be of use to her, pillaging as much as she possibly can.

Then she hears the tap behind her.

She spins around, drawing an arrow as swiftly as she can and loosing the string, it whizzes past the head of the tribute who has been sitting behind her, colliding with the wall behind. Trent Flee straightens, his eyes dark behind his almost black mass of tangled hair, his face unreadable, as set in stone as the District Eight mentor who stares down at them. Kate loads another arrow into her bow but, at such short range, the attempt is useless, and Trent simply knocks the bow away before she can fire, sending the arrow spinning uselessly to the ground. Kate gasps as Trent stops slouching, straightening to his full height and towering above her. Trent grabs for an axe lying near his feet but Kate reaches it first, pulling it upwards and very nearly cutting off Trent's fingers as he pulls his hand back. Kate gives another swing and Trent takes a step backwards. Grinning Kate steps forwards, axe raised, ready to swing down at him, but Trent quickly dodges, stepping back again. Another swing, another step back. Another slash, Trent retreats yet more. Kate snarls, now frustrated, and gives a single sweeping blow at his face. A slight smile tweaks the corners of Trent's lips as he ducks straight under the blade and, gripping it by its shaft, tears it out of Kate's hands. Kate gasps as Trent steps forwards, the axe now his. She grips the bag and holds it in front of her, desperatly looking for any way to defend herself.

"I'm sorry..." Trent mumbles, staring at his feet, "I'd like not to do this but..." His voice dies away as Kate swings the bag, slamming it directly into his head. Trent stumbles back and Kate swings again, but Trent raises his axe just in time, ripping the bag clean in two and scattering its contents across the floor and into the fabric behind them, which twists and flails. The now empty sacking hits Trent's face with little force, but succeeds in ripping the axe from his hands. Trent grips her by the throat, pushing her feet to the edge of the red fabric and leaning her backwards so that he is the only thing keeping her standing.

"You don't understand..." Trent sighs, "They're trying to kill us..."

Kate breaks, a snarl forming on her face as she claws for him.

"You idiot!" She roars, "Of course they're trying to kill us! Their the Gamesmakers! It's! Their! Job!"

Trent regards her with sad eyes and frowns, slapping both her hands out of the way.

"No..." He groans, "You really don't understand..."

With those words he releases her neck and she tumbles backwards into the mass of flailing cloths and fibres. More racks and threads tumble down, wrapping around the shrieking girl as she struggles to escape. Trent shakes his head, tossing her the axe, which just causes the cloth to flail more as it lands next to her hands, setting off another chain reaction. Trent forces as wide a smile as he can.

"I've given a chance..." He says with a shake of his head, "You can still get out if you do the right thing..."

He turns and begins to stalk down the corridor, his face grim. A few agonising minutes later a cannon goes off.

Trent heaves a sigh. He shouldn't have given her the axe. That was just spiteful.

He knew she would try to use it.

* * *

_A/N: 'Just a quick message from our sponsors to let you know that, pretty soon, the Games will be coming to a close. We at Hunger Games TV would be really interested to know who, if anyone, are you rooting for? Please note that backing an already dead tribute will not be counted and you may still be charged. Thank you and may the odds be forever in your favour.'_


End file.
